FightKnight
by rapebird
Summary: A Fate AU revolving around boxing where the Grail Wars are tournaments, the Servants are boxers, and the Masters are managers. Shirou is the manager of the debt-ridden Emiya Gym, and Saber is a boxer fighting for her lost honor. Together, they stake everything on winning the no-rules King of Boxers tournament.
1. Chapter 1

The Emiya gym had seen better days. In fact, as its owner irritably noted, it probably hadn't seen a lot of _worse _ones. If there had been such a time, it was probably just a few weeks ago. Today it was dilapidated, but not too long ago, it had been empty.

The sound of leather on leather echoed through the mock arena. Emiya Shirou, the 16-year-old owner of the Emiya gym, the youngest trainer to ever receive sole official accreditation in the King of Boxers tournament. It hadn't been that long ago when he believed he would also be the youngest to wash out of it, either.

The King of Boxers tourney was a small but extremely popular program rapidly gaining traction among both the casual boxing fan and the diehard aficionado, made particularly interesting by the nature of its free-form rule set: Both men and women could attend, and there were no weight classes. Essentially, the only two rules were:

A: Be strong,

and

B: Represent your gym well.

That second rule was the only card left to the Emiya gym. Gyms with the accreditation necessary to enter in a tournament were rare. The problem was that it had long since lost the ability to compete in said tournament. Once renowned because it was both owned and managed by the famous Emiya Kiritsugu, one of the greatest boxers in a long time, the Emiya stable had been a place of wealth and fame. However, following the devastating title fight loss ten years ago, Kiritsugu had been forced to retire and had taken up coaching.

Misfortune would quickly follow.

Emiya Kiritsugu was a powerful and feared boxer, but his talent as a manager had been lacking. After several disappointing fighters had washed out, the gym had passed to his adopted son deeply in debt. It had not been long ago that Shirou had believed he would have to give up his father's dream of the championship.

But that was when she had shown up at his door.

How the mighty had fallen, that the once unrivaled Saber should have to rely on a prematurely washed-up manager like him. There had been a time in her life when it seemed like she would stand atop the world of professional boxing as its unquestionable master. From the age of ten, her light but powerful strikes had danced across the ring in a series of utterly one-sided victories. By twelve, she was regularly defeating fully adult fighters by knockout. Many wondered if she would already be the champ before she could legally watch an R-rated movie.

Then her secret had come out. Not doping, or cheating, but simple embarrassment. The mighty fighter whose light footwork evoked the picture of a dancing duelist, earning her the nickname "Saber", was a girl. Clothes that might hide the subtle curves of a ten-year-old wouldn't conceal the developing body of a teen, and for all her power she was still bound by the barrier of the sexes. Many of the fights she had taken part in were supposed to be for men only. Not a very large violation of the rules, but humiliated fighters and managers spurned due to the stigma of having been defeated by a girl had operated to have her blacklisted. In six months she had gone from the brightest star in a long while to not being able to get a fight at any respectable venue. Her career seemed to have died in its cradle.

"Again!"

Emiya Shirou and the newest fighter in his stable rose at dawn and trained by starlight, when the day was not long enough. The other members of the gym, whose money was welcome but whose talent was insufficient, often stopped to gape in helpless marvel at the talent and intensity displayed on the training floor and in the workout room.

When Shirou trained someone, he had the ability to impart a certain nervous energy; his style fought reality with his ideal, a desperate disregard of the absolute limits enforced by one's physique. Had he not started from so poor a position, he might have gone on to be a fine manager in his own right; his pupils often said that working with him was to believe, if just for a moment, that they could become more than what they were, who they had been, and tried their hardest to achieve that impossible reality. It would be reasonable then, to assume his finest pupil would train with a similar ferocity and drive.

Saber didn't. Feet flashed back and forward across the ring, drawing the eye. Her hips swayed easily, moving her balance across both feet and yet on neither; her blows on the training bag Shirou held were light yet filled with power, every jab thwacking and resounding harder than a full-powered cross.

"Hoo, hoo, HAA!" The sound of Saber letting out small gasps to empower her blows was her only response to Shirou's combination call-outs.

Each one of her blows visibly pushed Shirou back. Saber didn't fight to overcome her limits; Saber fought because she was born to do it. Her body had been a weapon from the very beginning. When she wasn't fighting, she was training for the fight. When she wasn't training, she was planning for the fight. When she wasn't planning, she was dreaming of the fight.

Her form was graceful, if a bit overeager, and it was rapidly regaining polish and precision after an enforced period without a full regimen. Saber hadn't been at his gym long, Shirou thought, turning his hips slightly with each strike to compensate the force of the blows. One of Saber's combination finishers saw her plant her feet and square her shoulders to deliver a stunning mid-section hook that sent shocks through Shirou's body right through the training bag, nearly knocking him off his feet. That tinged his lips with a smile; it brought to mind a recent and fond memory.

...That had been a truly fateful encounter. Shirou had always had a strong work ethic, and he often took extra time after his sparse group of students and common bodybuilders who paid for time at his facilities left, but that night he had been going over every inch of the gym with extra care.

...It had been the moment he had been ready to give up. He was cleaning one last time as the owner, setting everything in order. He didn't have a fighter who could enter the tournament, and by the time of the next one, his debts would have long since been called in, taking with them everything. He didn't mind the idea of being poor, or even homeless if it came to it. Shirou knew he could provide for himself if he worked hard and wasn't picky or prideful.

No, what filled his heart with regret was having to finally admit that he had failed his father. As Shirou wiped the last speck of grime off the metallic rim of a silver frame, inside which rested a faded old photo.

Shirou always saved cleaning this for last, the photo was of his father, carrying in his arms a cute baby girl, a single white lock of hair just showing on her bald head. The girl was his daughter, real daughter, not adopted like Shirou. Her mother had died in childbirth, and her grandparents had launched a successful custody battle and taken her away from Kiritsugu, he wasn't even allowed visiting rights. Shirou had never met her, but he did know Kiritsugu might have been able to fight the expensive German team of lawyers for his daughter, if he invested all of hiswinnings, but he instead used part of the money to open this Gym.

The picture rested on a mantle in full view of the whole gym. A brass inscription was engraved over where the picture rested, which bore the slogan of Kiritsugu,

"_What are you willing to sacrifice?"_

Shirou turned the frame over and over in his hand, wiping off every last scrap of dust till it too was perfectly clean, and then placed it back on the mantle. It, like the whole of his gym, solemnly gleamed under the dim moon light filtering through the newly cleaned windows. Shirou had to bow his head toward the stars outside and apologize.

_Maybe I should hope for the burglar, _Shirou thought to himself sardonically. _He would probably just take what he can carry._

The door rattled again, even louder than before.

"Coming, I am coming, just a moment!" Shirou called out, unlatching the heavy chain strung through the twin handles and threw the deadbolt...

...Just in time for the door to throw _him_. Shirou kept the hinges to the large and heavy double doors to his gym well-oiled and in good repair; as a result, with enough force they would open quickly. The force of someone entering the newly opened gym just as soon as he unlatched the door was enough to knock Shirou on his ass and send him sliding across the freshly mopped hardwood. He ended up bracing himself on his hands, his legs slightly raised at the knees, staring up at the entryway.

She was beautiful.

Her blond hair was tied in a short bun, with one errant lock shifted over her eyes. He could see she was dressed in a windbreaker over a sports vest Shirou foggily recognized from advertisements for a boxing series that had long since declared its yearly champion. Mostly though, he was held captive by her eyes, hard agates practically glowing with the light of the moon flowing in from the door, encircling her.

"I ask of you...are you my manager?"

"Manager..."

Shirou could only repeat the word; it wasn't even a question, it was simply a statement to retest a familiar word suddenly made foreign...and somehow precious. Just a few moments ago Shirou had been prepared to say goodbye to that word.

"You are Emiya Shirou."

Her voice, as hard as her eyes, indicated it wasn't a question. Shirou felt himself nod as she let herself into the darkened room. There was a thump as she tossed a duffel bag Shirou had been too distracted to notice onto the floor of his gym. With her newly freed hand, she reached an arm to Shirou. After a moment, he realized she was offering to help him up.

He took her hand and she pulled him to his feet. Actually, now that he was standing, he could see that she really was quite tiny; Shirou almost dwarfed her. All the same, she had an aura about her as if she was 100-feet-tall. It was at that moment Shirou realized he actually _knew_ this person

"Sa...ber" Shirou said wonderingly, the tale of the brilliant boxer who had been so great a warrior and yet tossed out of her field by jealousy and pettiness flashing through his mind.

Saber nodded, still holding his hand. Something about her expression softened, if only slightly, and just for a moment, at the word. Maybe for her, like the word "manager" was to him, it was one she had feared having to say goodbye to as well.

"Manager Shirou," Saber said formally "Enter me in the King of Boxers tournament. Do so, and I shall win the title on behalf of your gym and in your name."

The tournament, which to Shirou had been an ironic joke, something that would have been his desperate last bet if he had a contestant, had lately seemed just the last road sign he would pass by on his way to defeat.

"M-My gym is...I mean, we don't even have any money..." Shirou stuttered, trying to sum up the many problems at once to this forceful young lady.

"I am aware of the Emiya Gym," Saber cut him off . "Once a flourishing home of warriors, now in disgrace, soon to be auctioned off and sold because of its debt." Saber's grip on his hand tightened. "Enter me...in the tournament." she finished.

Shirou's mind began to process the facts, if somewhat belatedly. Saber needed somewhere she could reclaim her lost honor, somewhere a victory would be convincing enough it would wash away her earlier mistakes. So she had looked for someone who was desperate enough to need a brilliant fighter no matter the background. She was from the English League, a Welsh fighter, according to his limited recollection. How far had she looked to wind up all the way out here in Japan?

"I won't give up." Saber said, somehow sensing the direction of his thoughts. "But I will admit...after this...I am out of options."

And that had, Shirou knew with sudden clarity, cost her something to say, both to him and to herself. Saber, he could immediately tell, was not the type of person who could easily admit when she had been driven into a corner. But all the same, she hadn't stopped fighting. Hadn't thrown in the towel.

And that's what it meant to be a boxer. If she was in a corner...well, then let it be _his_ corner. For the first time since she had taken his hand and pulled him to his feet when he was down and out, Shirou felt himself return a bit of force to her grip, becoming a handshake that sealed their fates together.

"Enough!"

Shirou's voice boomed across the brick walls of the gym after the endless repetitions of strike, bob and weave. Sweat plastered both of the pair's hair to their heads. Shirou wore a white wife-beater along with faded grey sweatpants that lived up to their name, with tracks of grease all along his thighs not quite absorbed into the fabric. Saber wore a simple black training bra and black training shorts which clung to her thighs. Clung rather pleasantly, Shirou privately admitted to himself.

That morning Shirou had risen before the sun to bike with his prize fighter, who jogged alongside him back and forth across the Fuyuki Bridge. After that there was a high-protein breakfast he prepared himself, and then aerobic exercises till noon. The afternoon session, which was just ending, was to polish and hone already nigh-perfect technique, and then finally...

Well, what _should _follow would be enemy preparation. The King of Boxers tournament was not one that could be won simply with power. All of the boxers set aside a time of the day to prepare specifically for the abilities of their opponent. Usually this would be done by hiring an ex-boxer or trainer using the style of the opponents. Obviously, as such trainers were in high demand, they commanded exorbitant rates, sometimes as much as the entire purse of a match fetched. On the other hand, such training afforded a boxer a powerful advantage against his or her opponent.

The Emiya gym couldn't afford it for Saber. All of the money they had and everything that could be borrowed had gone to simply paying the entry fee. It was an all-or-nothing gamble that had a thousand roads to ruin and a single one to success. A catch-22 in which they could not enter the tournament with any money, but would likely lose the first match without it. It had been Emiya's determination that had come up with a desperate countermeasure.

The first match was a qualification match, which did not mean their opponent was weak, merely that it was the first step on a long road. It was a surety that the Middle-Eastern Hush-Hushing Gym they had drawn was even now preparing their prize fighter to face off against Saber's _Promised Victory _style of boxing. Nicknamed the Assassin, their opponent was known for long looping crosses which set up furious uppercuts to the lower body.

Shirou could not afford the training Saber would need to achieve victory, nor did he know someone who used the Assassin's style who would do it for cheap.

…but he knew someone who came close.

"YOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOO, Shirouuuuuuuu-chaaaaaaaaan!"

The carefree voice rang out throughout the gym, causing newcomers' heads to turn in surprise but older, more experienced boxers to pay no heed. The former top fighter of Emiya Kiritsugu, the one near-success amidst a string of failures, master of the _Pouncing Tiger_ boxing style, and the notorious busybody of the Emiya dojo, Fujimura Taiga.

When Kiritsugu had passed, Taiga had been training for her first entry into the tournament. However, though a skilled and deadly fighter, she simply didn't have the dedication for the extreme conditioning required. Though a victor in many smaller regional tournaments, her laissez-faire work ethic had led to a disappointing quarterfinal loss which ultimately lead to her retirement. Taiga's style, which involved vicious hooks and power crosses, was not precisely the same as the one utilized by the Assassin, but it was much closer than anything else that could be found on short notice, and she worked for a meal.

Unlike her father, a friendly yet scary man to whom Shirou had went for the money for Saber's entry fee. Raiga was not a man one lightly owed money to.

Of course, for all her good qualities, Shirou had to suppress a helpless sigh at Fujimura's attention-grabbing entrance. Her yelling across the gym was bad enough, but the way she draped herself across his sweaty back was embarrassing

"Shirou, you called onee-chan again, I knew you miiiiiiiiiiiissed me!"

Taiga said onto his shoulders. After a moment though she wrinkled her nose up and turned a criticizing eye on Saber.

"You two stink! Get a shower first; I am not boxing with one glove over my nose!"

Shirou and Saber could only roll their eyes in tandem, already used to this statement after the last few days of hearing it repeated. Taiga was doing them a favor, so they couldn't help but obey. They stepped into the respective men and women's showers for just a few minutes while Taiga went through a brief warm-up. Shirou stripped and changed into a new outfit almost indistinguishable from the last one save for the "Emiya Gym" emblazoned on the back. Saber, though, changed into a replica of her official boxing gear, a sport's bra emblazoned with the royal flag of England, her home country and similarly colored training shorts. When Saber actually practiced enemy preparation she trained properly attired so the feel was absolutely as close to the real match as possible. Taiga, as Saber entered the ring, stripped off her overshirt which she had worn to her day job as a teacher, revealing her old tiger-striped sports vest.

Actually, in most boxing arenas a sports vest like Taiga's was required for female boxers, but the King of Boxer's tournament had looser rules regarding attire. One of the gym novices would ring the bell while another acted as the referee. Shirou, as would be the case in an official match, was in Saber's corner. Before the match started, he leaned into her ear to offer some last second advice. It was the kind of thing they had talked about before, but a manager said it again to make sure it was on the forefront of a fighter's mind as the fight started.

"Now, she has a lot of reach and stays light, you know she keeps her weight low and likes to step left on that right hook. Work your left jab, make her keep that right up, don't try and trade punches with her; she has a lot of chin. If you get her to raise her hands, work the gut, she is has a good backstep but she is always a bit slow to drop her hands."

Saber nodded once, her mouth guard preventing more response then that, and then it was time for the match to begin. The pair met at the center of the ring, bumping gloves amicably as was tradition, and then retreated to their corners. The bell rang to start the bout. Saber, as was her usual style, immediately advanced...

...But Taiga advanced even quicker. Moving with her shoulders hunched and her weight centered just off her lead foot, she opened the bout with a straight left followed by a swift drop of her upper body to deliver a combination pair of hooks directed towards Saber's breadbasket. Saber shifted her head behind the hook, robbing it of momentum, Remembering her actual opponent preferred hooks, she caught the first strike low on her right glove and then twisted to the side around the second, using her momentum to throw a 4-count combination string of jabs towards Taiga's temporarily unguarded head. The first and second landed squarely, but the third and fourth were caught and deflected by Taiga's upraised fist in a standard block that placed the gloves, palm turned in, between the punch and the strike zone, the thick leather robbing blows of any force. To regain her momentum, she stepped backwards, shaking her head as if to clear her ears. Saber didn't let up, pressing the advantage behind a straight cross.

...But the _Pouncing Tiger_ technique had deadly repercussions for the unwary, and as Saber threw the punch, the momentary opening closed, revealing itself as a feint. As Saber advanced, her weight behind the blow, Taiga lowered her body under the strike, faded slightly to the side, and leveled her entire body weight behind a wild haymaker centered on her left fist.

A punch not preferred by most professional boxers due to its risks, massive haymakers tended to unbalance the thrower more often than they landed square on the target , but it was that deadly force that lead the _Pouncing Tiger_ to receive its name, the one strike that could end a fight less like a technically precise fighter and more like a wild animal dragging down its quarry. It was what made Taiga an appropriate substitute for the Assassin, whose vicious parries were designed to push an opponent into a corner and then provoke the one-punch unpredictable defeat.

Saber's guard was broken by the dodge and for a critical half-step she was too off-balance to pull back; it was the kind of opening that could result in an instant knockout. It might have too, if it wasn't for Saber's combat instincts. As her first punch fired, she was already reading the situation as going wrong. Lacking a proper defense, she ducked her head to her chest, taking the blow across her forehead as opposed to squarely across the lower jaw, which might have disabled her.

The blow still threw her bodily to the mat, but she was up on her feet before the count could start. No-Count knockdown, a point for Taiga on the cards, and a terrible way to start a match too. Saber pressed her fists together with a rap of pounding leather in displeasure.

Taiga, true to form, did not step on her back heel to defend the round as might be standard for a first round knockdown. Like the Assassin, she pressed the attack ruthlessly, opening with a one-two jab combination in front of a tight uppercut on her instep. Saber fended the first pair of blows with her upraised gloves and gave ground to let the uppercut trail air. For a few seconds the pair circled each other trading jabs and crosses, neither really able to create an opening, till a moment where Taiga stepped behind a successful cross to deliver a punishing left hook...that may have just been a little too loose.

Taiga had wound up just a hair too much, looking for just a bit too much force and Saber was able to read the telegraphed punch well, curling under the blow and delivering an uppercut that staggered Taiga backwards, followed up by a precise jab-cross jab combination strike to just below Taiga's floating ribcage. Taiga was forced to jump backwards to avoid further punishment, her gloves coming up at the same time, preventing Saber from following up further.

There was a moment where the pair watched each other warily, before Taiga visibly straightened out her bruised mid-section, grimacing slightly and resettled herself. The bout was about to resume when the bell rang, signaling the end of the round and the training.

Normally the fighters would retreat to the corners in a proper bout, but in these practice sessions Saber and Shirou would go over the match details. It was clear from the outset however, that Saber was too frustrated from her mistake in the opening moments to be as constructive as she could be.

"You are stepping too hard on your straight right," Shirou chastised as Saber took some water from a purified thermos, "It's good to be aggressive, but your weight isn't settling quick enough."

Saber's reply was an uncommitted and entirely unladylike grunt in response. It wasn't that she wasn't listening; he knew she was taking his words in mind, but she had a tendency to be a bit self-critical after losing bouts, and despite her successes in landing blows later in the round, in an official bout, the No-Count would have put the round in Taiga's column.

"Shirouuuuuu!" Saber's reverie was broken when Taiga burst between them; despite the fast-paced and bruising fight she still was full of energy, as always.

"How about something to eat? You promised me something good if I had a good match!"

That was true, this was the last time they would have a chance to train before setting out for the tournament's qualification match, and he had wanted Taiga to really give it her all so Saber wouldn't grow overconfident. Actually, Shirou privately felt that today's match had almost certainly been good for his prize fighter; it would keep her sharp and focused in tomorrow's match.

With that in mind, he changed out of his workout clothes again and slipped into a T-shirt and shorts, and began to put dinner on while the girls took showers and got changed. The kitchen was attached to the gym along with a small set of sleeping quarters they had prepared for Saber. Shirou slept in the Emiya household nearby.

Shirou took personal interest in precisely managing Saber's diet, which was not as easy as one might have thought. Saber's might was his single hope for the future; her spirit was a joy to coach and train, her body was as fit as could be and rather easy on the eyes, and, despite what some might have thought, her heart was warm and kind.

_But stars above, her stomach will be the end of me! _

Shirou thought to himself, thinking about dinner. Normally he fed Saber eggs, rice, and whatever he could afford for cheap at the market to keep her impossibly vast furnace of energy flowing. But today was special, it was the last meal they would have at home before they left for the qualification match tomorrow. Shirou was determined to make it a good one. He had scrounged up a bit of money from normal membership dues that should have gone to paying minimum payments, and bargained thriftily at a local delicacy shop, to which the reward had been a massive fresh-caught tuna and a free plate of tea cakes alongside as a purchase gift. Shirou prepared the fish by pan-broiling it in a delicate broth, along with a side of rice with a fresh pot of tea, sliced a few chilled oranges up as a desert, and prepared an extra helping of eggs for Saber.

Shirou smiled to himself. For freaking once he was going to win a match against Saber's endless requests for more helpings.

Taiga and Saber settled themselves into the front room, while they smelled the food cooking.

"Excellent bout, Taiga." Saber opened after a quiet moment, her mood much improved by the smell of food in the air. Meat was a rarity at the Emiya gym, much less fresh-caught fish. "Your victory was well earned."

"Heehee, thanks Saber-chan, from you that means a lot!" Taiga said, pleased at the compliment. "It was one good punch though, the rest of the time I felt like I was trying to keep up. I have noticed when fighting you that you turn slightly on your lead foot behind your straight right, so I was kind of able to see your attack coming."

"Is that true?" Saber said with a surprised look on her face. Shirou had warned her she was telegraphing her straights by putting a bit too much pressure on her lead foot, but that she was also bracing it was new.

_Had she simply misspoken...or had the tiger perhaps really picked up on something subtle enough that both she and Shirou had been missing it?_

Dinner arrived, and Saber was too polite to immediately ask Shirou about it through a mouthful of slightly too hot fish. Taiga wasn't.

"Shirou, Saber says nobody told her she is bracing her straight, did you miss that? I think you should have me over for dinner more often!" Taiga said brightly, holding a hand to her face in a dreamy-eyed stare. "And this is really good too!" Taiga continued, eyeing the hot meal appreciatively. "We should have this every night!"

"Heh, that's up to Saber," Shirou said a bit self-deprecatingly, "As long as she keeps winning, we can stay away from tea and rice for a while."

...Just then, Shirou felt a rush of heat coming from the other end of the table. Saber hadn't responded to his last sentence…but somehow it seemed as if just behind and superimposed over her, a fiery lion was created by her aura, ready to do battle. Shirou knew Saber was the type that was ready to get into the ring anytime, anywhere...but maybe she was suddenly getting even more fired up?

At the end of the night, Taiga was preparing to leave and Shirou and Saber were both planning for an early night, when the door to the gym rattled. It was the sound of a late visitor bursting into the gym proper. Curious, they all went to receive Shirou's visitor.

It was a man wearing a postbag that was marked with the KoB logo; he was out of breath from running. He handed Shirou an envelope. After unfolding it and beginning to read it, Shirou froze up in chagrin, looking almost stricken. Worried, Saber and Taiga moved behind him to read over his shoulder.

_To whom it may concern,_

_The Assassin is currently incarcerated due to failing a drug test, a pre-fight examination revealed the presence of multiple illegal narcotics in his system, most notably an extremely high concentration of THC. As a result, Hush-Hushing Gym is considered to be in forfeit of the match, the purse will be awarded to the Emiya Gym, but since the match will be called, the gate reward will not be provided. However, his manager has suggested using a free agent that he has contracted in his place. If you agree to the substitution, the match will go on as scheduled. In that case__, please sign the enclosed form and return it to the bearer of this message. If he does not return in time, or you choose not to agree to the substitution, then your prize fighter, Saber, will be declared the winner and entered to the tournament proper. Either way, the tournament committee wishes your stable good luck in the King of Boxers tournament._

The message was stamped by the office of the Treasury Corporation, the conglomeration of businesses which produced the tournament.

Shirou looked at Saber and Taiga. If the match was called, even in their favor, they were in big trouble.

The gate the envelope referenced was the portion of the proceeds a victorious fighter received from ticket sales. The Emiya Gym could probably at least make its monthly payments without the gate, but without a specialist trainer, they would likely lose the next match.

"Shirou..." Taiga's voice sounded worried. "You can't, if Saber goes in blind..."

That was the whole point of having Taiga train Saber to begin with; without an understanding of an opponent's style a boxer was at a nearly unsurmountable disadvantage,

"It's not just that, Taiga," Shirou said, his brow wrinkling. "This...seems like a set up."

At that, both Saber and Taiga looked even more thoughtful at the unexpected development.

"Their prize fighter makes a rookie mistake and gets drummed out, but they have some complete unknown ready to go already who is good enough to compete? And they are up against us..."

"I was able to find out about this gym's financial problems without difficulty," Saber chimed in, adding to his thoughts "If our opponent did likewise, and I am sure he did, then he certainly knows we cannot afford to not take up his challenge. If our enemy wanted to gain an early edge..."

"Ooooh I see!" Taiga's eyes went as wide as saucers as she suddenly caught on "They give you and everyone else one name to get ready for, and then bam!" she said, miming an offhand sucker punch. "Then everyone's opposition research goes right out the window! Wow, how underhanded!"

"And if this truly was a set up...then the new fighter is likely more talented than the Assassin, else they wouldn't be using him instead." Shirou said, completing the thought.

The Assassin was a skilled and merciless fighter who easily deserved his place in the tournament. If their theory was correct. Saber would be going in blind against an extremely dangerous fighter.

Shirou exchanged a look with Saber.

"..I'll fight." Saber said quietly. It was a pure statement of willpower. No arguments, no questions. "I did not enter this tournament for money, for fame, or even for the belt. ...I did it so that I could get back in the ring. Let this new man come. Let this trap spring then, I'll break through it, and his jaw with it! Saber's green eyes were alight with fire. "I'll simply win," was her last words on the matter.

Against determination like that, Shirou could only nod. Saber was his prize fighter; if he couldn't maneuver her into an advantage, he would just have to rely on her battle ability. He signed the form and sent it back with the messenger.

After that, Shirou and the others opened up Taiga's tiny laptop to check the new standings. It appeared word had traveled quickly. Where Saber's match had recently said "Assassin vs. Saber" the new bout read:

**Saber vs. FA**

**Coming soon!**


	2. Chapter 2

Saber's head popped off the pillow three minutes before the alarm rang. The clock was a complete formality; her body had a natural rhythm which synced well to her workout schedule. Despite normal jet lag, she had adapted to early nights and early mornings in Japan with extraordinary aptitude; that was partly due to the tireless efforts of her manager. Emiya Shirou worked himself hard and her harder right from the beginning, trying to cram half a year's worth of conditioning into a scant few weeks. That had done a great deal to reset her circadian rhythms; if you strain your mind and body to the breaking point for fourteen straight hours, you are out when your head hits the pillow no matter what your normal inclination would be.

Though today's schedule looked different than usual, Saber imagined it would begin much the same. She got a light shower and changed into her jogging suit. Shirou had mentioned he wanted her to stretch out this morning so they would go for a run, albeit only for about a quarter of their usual route.

…Actually, that brought to mind a question: usually by now he would have come to check on her. She wondered what he was doing, and so left the gym and walked a little while to the Emiya residence. Saber knocked a few times but received no answer, so she used the key Shirou had given her to let herself in.

He was a mess. Well, it's not like he was passed out drunk or moaning in pain from sickness, but he was sitting in the same place Saber had left him last night, hunched over Taiga's computer which she had decided to loan him for the tournament. A pot of tea sat on a dish next to him that had clearly gone cold hours ago, and more importantly, breakfast hadn't even been started yet.

For Shirou, this was deeply unusual.

"Shirou." Saber called out after a moment, when it became clear he would not notice her on his own.

"Eh?! Saber, you should be asle…the time!" Shirou cried out, multiple thought slamming home in quick succession. "Crap, breakfast!" He said, rushing into the kitchen.

"Shirou, wai…" Saber started to no avail. Well, it's not like she was not looking forward to breakfast, quite the opposite actually, but it wouldn't do for Shirou to start panicking. Saber had learned that Shirou had trouble concentrating when he got off schedule. The sound of him bustling in the kitchen was quickly drowned out by the buzzing of a commercial level juice blender. Since she had a moment, she glanced at the computer screen to see what her manager had been working on. There were nearly a dozen tabs open, all on various boxing links. The current one was a link to the _Hush-Hushing Gym_.

"Did you learn anything?" She tried calling out, but there was no answer from the kitchen. He probably couldn't hear her over the sound of the blender. Instead, Saber stretched out her arms and legs a bit to loosen out her muscles. She wasn't sure if they would still be following their morning plan before the fight and wanted to ensure either way that her body was relaxed and ready.

Shirou emerged quickly from the kitchen. Annoyingly so, to Saber's way of thinking, Shirou's time in the kitchen probably meant that…

Yes, it was as she had feared, Shirou was carrying a simple plate with wheat toast, a bowl of plain oatmeal, eggs, and one of the large smoothie mixes he sometimes made. She knew the mix was some combination of yams, beats, spinach, and orange juice. The flavor wasn't as bad as it might have been, but it wasn't satisfying at all. This kind of meal was one created to be absolutely nutritionally precise. The beats and whole grains were filled with carbohydrates. The eggs were for protein, and there was probably more protein powder in the smoothie, which of course did nothing for the flavor. Or texture.

"Shirou…" Saber said imploringly, grimacing to herself. Her tone of voice was that of someone repeating an argument she had had several times before, one that she didn't expect to win either.

"My decision, Saber." Shirou said, with a ring of authority in his voice. "I understand, but today we have to be at one hundred and ten percent. Carbs now and a protein bar along with an orange for lunch. You can take it out on this free agent guy tonight." Shirou said with a half grin.

Saber met his eyes for a moment, but only for a moment. It was annoying, but he was right, it absolutely was his decision, and she couldn't argue when he was in full managerial mode. Grudgingly she dug in to her meal.

"I saw your computer," Saber began after sipping her oddly textured smoothie. "Were you able to learn anything about our opponent?"

"Nothing," Shirou said annoyed, wiping his eyes tiredly. "Absolutely nothing. No new fighters have flown in that aren't already signed, no boxers of note have dropped off the map, I can't even find any big equipment orders being placed recently to imply someone new is getting intensive training. I was hoping if I could find out who this new guy was, we might at least get a video of one of his old fights, but I cannot even find out his name. This guy is a ghost." Shirou sighed to himself warily and then looked over at her.

"Don't rush, but finish that quickly, we aren't missing our run."

It took Saber a moment to understand why Shirou was being all business today. This was their first actual, official match, so she wasn't completely certain this wasn't his usual match day demeanor and it was simply the first time she was seeing it, but now she understood.

Shirou was worried.

In a strange way, this situation might actually be easier for her than for her manager. No matter what, she still controlled how this day would play out. She could resolve to engage this free agent person and destroy him, but Shirou's job was in preparation; he could advise her and care for her between rounds, but his primary purpose was to prepare for the match beforehand so that she was in the best possible position for victory.

_What poor timing for her manager to experience a crisis of confidence!_

That sudden realization darkened Saber's mood more than the reveal of this free agent had. For the first time as they ran across the Fuyuki Bridge, Shirou's normal stream of encouragement had a forced feeling to it, instead of his natural energy, and the sound of her steady footsteps tapping against the cement sidewalk struck her as disturbingly hollow.

As they returned to the gym, Saber and Shirou began to get ready to leave. The King of Boxers tournament had strict regulations for attendance, both for fans and fighters. Fans were absolutely required to use the KoB parking garage, with its exorbitant parking rates. The Treasury Corporation didn't _quite _make as much money off the garage as it did from the matches, but it was close. The fighters were required to be ferried to the arena's rear entry behind a barricade. There was a fee for this too, but it was rolled up into the admission fee for a fighter.

Saber had heard some boxing managers complained bitterly that they were not allowed to use their own expensive German-made sports cars painted in their fighter's colors, but Emiya Shirou had expressed gratitude privately to her. The idea of taking a bus to their first big fight had not appealed to him. Visuals aside, this meant they could arrive much quicker and get one last stretch out before the match.

A horn honk outside announced the arrival of their ride. Painted in the green and black colors of the King of Boxers tournament, a hatchback waited with the rear open to receive Saber's sport bag filled with their equipment. The driver, a stern-faced man in a black suit whose size and aura would have felt right at home in a yakuza movie, leaned over to pick it up but Shirou waved him off, and had just grabbed the cloth strap himself when…

"Shiroooooouuuuuu!" The sound of the rapidly loudening voice was accompanied by a squeal of tires and the rumbling of an engine. Saber had seen Fujimura's habit of hanging herself on Shirou's neck before; despite Shirou's complaints about it, he was always smiling shyly when it happened.

…That said, Saber had to admit this particular method was a first when she saw Taiga's motorcycle come drifting around the corner of the street directly behind Shirou, come flying to a stop that kicked its back tires off the ground and literally vaulted her off the motorcycle.

Shirou was in a half turn at the time, just responding to the sound of Taiga's voice, and somehow in doing so…he must have caught the look on Saber's face. Saber saw for a split-second his expression change from startled surprise to one with just a hint of resignation.

Then Taiga careened into him at about the speed of Saber's left haymaker. Saber found it quite impressive that he managed to stay on his feet, even if he had to step forward a few times to keep his balance.

"SHIROU-CHAN! Taiga yelled in pure delight, unfazed by either throw or impact, unsurprisingly. Taiga had locked into a firm grip, holding Shirou from behind around his shoulders. "Onee was so worried you would have left before I got here!"

"…Hi Taiga…" Shirou said, coughing out a bit of half-squeezed air.

"Eh? Shirou? What's wrong? You sound like you are struggling, tell me you got a good night's sleep last night!"

Saber saw Shirou roll his eyes wearily, but inwardly Saber noticed that if Taiga had not been precisely correct in her guess as to what was plaguing Shirou, she technically wasn't _wrong_ either. That way of living was just like Taiga though.  
Taiga finally released Shirou and turned him around, raising an admonishing finger, when the grim-faced driver took a step forward, his aura growing even darker.

"We are on a schedule." The man said in a cold voice. "We are leav—"

Taiga's face came up over Shirou's shoulder. She did not say anything, only locked eyes with the larger man.

…To his credit, he managed to maintain eye contact for nearly half a second. Saber clearly saw the man's pupils contract, the way as someone who had just come face to face with a large and unexpected predator. He actually took an unconscious step back, raising both of his hands palm outward, in a non-threatening fashion.

"..ing after I have a smoke." The man said, changing his words mid-sentence. He suited actions to words, walking around to the other side of the car, where he lit up a cigarette with an expensive-looking metallic lighter. Out, Saber noticed, of Taiga's direct line of sight.

"Will you be accompanying us, Taiga?" Shirou asked diffidently.

"Oh, I would like to but they only allow managers and their stable in the pre-fight rooms. But my father bought us all tickets, so we will be cheering you guys on, OK?" Taiga said, looking back and forward from Shirou to Saber. Now that Taiga reminded her, she remembered Shirou mentioning that rule. "I just came to see you two off and wish you luck."

"Thanks. I needed that" Shirou said back to her, earning a fond, if a little overprotective smile from his older sister.

"Ohhhhh…" Taiga said, catching Shirou into another bear hug, this time from the front. "You are gonna do great, you both are, I just know it! Give 'em hell!"

They stayed like that for a moment longer, but eventually Shirou disengaged.

"Ok, we need to get going. I'll look for you and Raiga-san in the stands." Shirou said. A statement which caused the driver to move back around and open the door for Saber as Shirou tossed their bag in the back. As a courtesy to the fighters and to at least partially mollify the managers who would prefer their own ride, the cars would only pick up and drop off one boxer at a time. Comfort aside, this meant an extra moment for strategy.

Shirou watched Taiga speed off on her motorcycle through the tinted glass, and then shook his head. For a moment, Saber felt hopeful Shirou might be regaining at least a little of his focus.

The red haired manager seemed to shake himself off after a moment, looking intently at Saber.

"All right, we don't know what we are dealing with. If we are lucky we'll recognize him when he climbs in, but I don't think that's gonna happen. So if we can't read him before the fight, we are gonna have to do it during it. Look here," Shirou said, using his finger to outline a rough ring on the back of the chair in front of him.

"This is your area here," Shirou traced an X pattern between the four corners. I want you to stay away from the ropes; don't get on them, don't try and force him onto them. Stay on the jab and work the cross block. Don't go for any feints. Hell, don't go for any openings unless it's playing the jab. He knows more about you then we know about him, he will probably try to take advantage of your aggression and hope to catch you off-guard early. If you lose on the points, we will get them back later.

Saber nodded along, holding one hand to her chin as she carefully memorized her target ring zone. It was a simple, yet effective counterstrategy; they would use round one as a fact-finding opportunity. It was annoying to nearly write round one off as a loss, but her manager was playing smart. It was a good way to get back into this.

When they arrived at the arena, due to being slightly off schedule, they were just in time to see a bunch of the other fighters entering the annex to the absolutely monstrously-sized arena complex. Even though each fighter only fought about 5-8 matches in a tournament, not counting the title fight for _the Glorious Number Two_, but there were almost a hundred certified gyms and boxers. As a result, the arena complex was designed to handle multiple fights at a night, even at once, since most fights had to be scheduled for Friday and Saturday. Saber watched as Shirou grabbed their gear, but before they could head for the annex…

"Oh? If it isn't Emiya-kun!"

A lively voice came from behind them. When they turned, they saw a pair coming from further down the garage. One was a large tanned man with a shock of dyed white hair, wearing a set of red and black boxing trunks; the other was a dignified and beautiful young girl with elaborate raven-colored hair decorated in twin tails. Saber would hate to try and box with her hair bobbing around like that, but she had to admit it was stylish.

"I see you made it after all! I didn't expect to see you."

"…She is lying, Saber. Around here, there is nothing in these parts she doesn't know. Let me introduce you. Saber, this is Tohsaka Rin. A manager like me, Tohsaka's family owns land all over town through the Sparkling Gem Corporation, a lot of which is the larger spaces used by the different gyms, including ours. She is the only one in town not affiliated with the Treasury making money from these fights. Besides victory purses, I mean."

"And it drives the Treasury execs absolutely insane too." Rin said with a superior grin. "I get another buyout offer at least three times a week, this close to the tournament. I stopped using my computer months ago just to get away from the emails."

"That is a lie." The gravelly voice of the larger tanned man cut in "You stopped using your computer after I began refusing to clear off the viruses and you wouldn't pay to have them fixed professionally."

"Ughhh…" Rin groaned to herself with a dissatisfied look on her face, refusing to rise to the baiting, and turned back to Saber. "And this is my fighter for the tournament; he is the _Guardian_ now, though perhaps you have heard of him by a different name?" Rin said, looking from Saber to Shirou.

At that, Shirou sank down a little and merely shook his head, looking at the Guardian warily. Saber wasn't a good judge of people's facial expressions, but it was pretty clear there was little love lost between her manager and the Guardian.

After an awkward moment, Shirou cleared his throat, "This is my new prizefighter, she is called…"

"Saber. Yes I know." Rin said, cutting in. She gave Saber a professional, if slow up-and-down look. After a moment, she nodded in grudging approval. "You are a long way from home, Saber."

"I am not." Saber said in return, a hint of pride creeping into her calm voice. "My home is only a few hundred meters from here. The ring is my only home."

"Huuu…how admirable," Rin said. "Then how is your battle plan coming along? I hear your match had some irregularities."

"I couldn't find out anything about our opponent," Shirou said morosely, a bit of the earlier darkness creeping back into his voice.

"Yeah, I couldn't either," Rin admitted thoughtfully, "and like you said, there should be nothing I don't know. Not that I was looking, it's just, well, a strange situation!" Rin hurriedly added. Saber noticed Rin flush a bit as she said it. Saber also theorized her manager had completely missed it.

"W-Well, so, what's your strategy then?" Rin said after a moment.

"Don't really have one," Shirou admitted honestly. "We were training for the Assassin; we will have to get our feet under us in the match. At this point I am just putting my faith in Saber.

"Uggh."

"Uggh."

Rin and the Guardian both sighed at the same time upon hearing that.

"Noooooow I see what you meant," Rin said to the Guardian. "Was his father like that too?"

"No," The Guardian said with a mocking grin. "His father was much, _much_ worse as a manager."

At that, Shirou became a knot of muscle. It was the first time Saber had ever seen him really and truly fuming. She felt her own body tensing up; if there was a fight, she knew where her loyalties lay. For a moment, the threat of violence hung thickly in the air.

"Emiya-kun" Rin's voice pierced the moment, somehow instantly taking charge of the situation. "Listen carefully because I am only going to say this once. A manager can't be great if she puts her faith into her fighter. A fighter can be great if her manager has faith in her!"

Rin stopped for a moment, confused. It was the struggle of someone who understood something so deeply and so intrinsically that it was difficult to actually put in to words.

"…Rin." The Guardian's voice cut in quietly after Rin trailed off. "…Why do you appear to be helping another manager?"

"Argh…" Rin groaned, "I am just trying to make sure I actually get my check this month! Look, Emiya-kun; don't lose too quickly to some nameless guy, all right? I want my bill on time for once!"

After that Rin stalked off with the Guardian close in tow, squabbling with him good-naturedly. Saber found herself wondering if they were the type who expressed their affection by criticism.

After that Shirou lead Saber confidently through the complex. They first went through a series of doors with different managers' names emblazoned on them, including the Tohsaka gym, and past that to an area where the doors were fixed with white erase boards with the name merely drawn in with black marker. The one that said "Emiya" on it was one of the last ones there, which was a sign of their late and unexpected entry.

Shirou was scowling.

Their room was just a small area with a single shelf to toss Saber's gear on and a tiny area separated by a cloth partition Saber could get changed behind. Saber wondered how long it had been since the Emiya name had been emblazoned onto a door like Rin's had been.

"You know why they call him the Guardian?" Shirou said without preamble. "It's because he is so defensive. He has never won a fight by knock out, but his win-loss record is on the good side of three to one. …He used to fight for my father..."

Saber looked up at this statement, interested. Shirou rarely talked about the man whose dream he intended to fulfil.

"They call him that because he is so technically precise. His ability to read his opponent is legendary, and he fights with sheer know-how. He doesn't land many blows, but the ones he throws impress the judges, and he is so good at staying tight nobody can ever land a square punch. He fights with pure precision and ability. A style that gradually wears down an enemy while keeping himself strong; hence he is called the _Guardian_." Shirou finished.

"But when my father was just starting out…people expected his gym was gonna be _the _place to be. We had lots of promising fighters, before everything went south. One of them was known as the _Boxer of justice_. He was different then. My father didn't like trusting the judges, and felt that it meant losing control of a match that a boxer should control himself. My father…"

Shirou trailed off for a moment morosely. Saber wished she was the type of person who knew what to say in these kinds of situations, but as she was not, she simply held her tongue and waited for her manager to collect himself.

"He treated himself like a machine when he was in the ring. He never showed fear or pain, he worked as hard as he possibly could, showing no emotion at all, he always fought with everything he had to the absolute best of his ability. He treated his fighters the same way. Up at 4:14, asleep at 9:17. Meals were perfectly structured, on a perfect two-week rotation, save boxing matches days which caused a slight change. He planned his training regimen like a computer program, something you could work out with pen and paper: this much exercise, that much daily improvement. Q.E.D." Shirou shook his head at the memory.

"It drove the Guardian away. It ruined Taiga."

Saber had a disturbing flashback to the meal she had been served this morning, when Shirou had been feeling out of sorts. It seemed to somehow embody the worse aspects of Emiya Kiritsugu that Shirou was remembering.

"My father," Shirou started again, "could train the mind and body, but he never looked after his boxers' hearts. I know that was a mistake, one I was determined not to repeat. His failure was that he could never talk to or rely on his fighters. I wanted to correct that, but Rin and the Guardian acted like that is wrong too. I'll admit, I may not be a good manager…but I really do believe in you, Saber." Shirou finished, with an honest ring to his voice.

The unabashed vote of confidence filled Saber with pride. She knew; not just believed, but _knew_ that Shirou believed she could win this match, despite the situation.

It was that firm knowledge that made her think she could almost see what Rin had been trying to get at, and if she could just figure the last piece out, she knew She and her master could fight together with pride. She opened her mouth to speak, not quite sure of what she would say but dead certain it needed to be said, when a small buzzer over the door signaled the match would start soon. That meant the time for talk was past.

Saber changed into her official uniform, still trying to think about how to put her feelings into words, while equally aware this was the time to put emotions aside and put her mind on the fight ahead. When they arrived at the ring entry hall, she, as the known fighter, would enter first, signaled by her entrance theme; entitled the _Promised Victory_, after her boxing style.

...After all this time…Saber was finally getting back into the ring. A match with everything riding on it, a last chance…all that was suddenly beside the point; Saber had a fight to win.

She felt Shirou's gaze draw hers as the music that signaled her entrance started. She delayed but a moment, building up the exhilaration and suspense. She felt a pair of smoky brown eyes resting on her, nervous, but focused; instead of being hindered by the energy, feeding off it just the same way she herself was.

"Are you ready, Saber?" Asked a voice that already knew the answer. She was born for this moment and every one like this.

"Are _you_ ready, Shirou?" Saber said instead, in a tone that knew the answer. This was his moment, a time when he faced down reality in pursuit of his ideal. He was born for this moment, and every one like this. Her gloved fist met his bare knuckles. And then they pushed through the door into the bright lights and the boxing ring that would hold their destiny within it.

Saber's steps automatically adjusted to the rhythm of her own beat, the same music that had played before hundreds of fights, ringing through the air to trumpet her victory. The screams of fans, both of her and of the great sport of boxing threaded through the giant arena, not drowning out her song, but rather enhancing it, giving it life, invigorating the audience and her in a cycle that fed off itself, becoming glorious.

All her training, all her talent, every step she had taken and every last bit of her manager's energy had been a path of a thousand steps leading back to this moment. Saber took off her voluminous robe, revealing her usual flag printed gear. In a professional match like this, there was no headgear, no protection at all save a mouthguard.

That was the way Saber loved it.

She lightly passed through the ropes, drawing a fresh round of cheers as she stood under the bright spotlight. She wasn't a showboat, but she couldn't help tossing up a gloved hand to the crowd as she lightly stepped back and forth, working out her muscles one last time to prevent them from stiffening up.

Then the music changed. It was the signal of the challenger. The notes changed from her own theme to a harmonious melody more suited for a quiet theater than the screaming audience, yet somehow it seemed right at home in the arena. Her opponent entered from the far side of the ring.

_Well, he was certainly handsome._

He was a thin, but confident-looking Japanese man with long purple hair. His body had the natural grace of a warrior as he stepped to the stage, allowing his manager, a dark skinned, and dead-eyed man, to take off his robe. The new fighter wore a simple pair of purple athletic trunks and he was bare-chested. He slid into the ring like a cobra, all easy power and ready to strike with perfect lethality. After the crowd cheered him a moment, a referee stood up to announce the fighter stats. Saber was too absorbed in examining her opponent to pay him much attention however. Anything at all might give her the edge, if only just a tiny bit. Did he prefer uppercuts like the assassin? Or maybe he was a strict jab fighter. She noted he had very long and powerful-looking arms compared to his wispy body, which would lend well to crosses. The pair approached the center of the ring and bumped fists, then retreated to their corners.

And then the sound that Saber had been waiting for. The one she had never allowed herself to admit she was afraid she might never hear again. The sounds of her match starting, signaled by a simple bell toll.

And then the fight started in earnest.

…but perhaps, not as Saber might have expected.

As the bell tolled, Saber immediately advanced to the center of the ring, expecting the Free Agent to do likewise; however, he did not. As a fighter, it was customary to avoid being threatened on the ropes, particularly the corner, as much as possible, but it seemed that was not the philosophy of the mysterious boxer.

As opposed to Saber, he merely took one step out of his corner and allowed his hands to rest at his side. He had no boxing stance, no obvious defense, and seemed to have no desire to attack. He merely stood there, a single eye open, with maybe the barest hint of a threat glinting out from it, and the self-satisfied smirk of a man who has exactly what he wants in life gracing his lips.

_Well, if he won't advance, then I will! _Saber thought, darting forward behind a pair of probing jabs at the extreme outside of her range…or she _would_ have, had her honed instincts, already potent and trained well from facing the unpredictable Pouncing Tiger, not halted her momentum and sent her upper body slipping aside, inches away from a pair of absolutely vicious hooks that seemed to materialize out of thin air.

Saber actually had to concentrate for a moment to connect the attacks to the defenseless-looking man in front of her. Dimly she began to understand the nature of the man facing her. He wasn't a boxer in the traditional sense. He had no use for the areas of the ring that he himself was not on; here was a fighter who merely claimed for himself a tiny part of the ring and punished him or her who dared encroach.

Now that she looked, she could see that his step from his corner had been just enough to ensure the circle immediately around him, composed of the length of his arms, was just outside the range of the rope and corner. He was a dexterous warrior who utilized a strange strategy that ceded 90% of the ring to Saber, but mastered the last 10% irrefutably.

Honestly, Saber wanted to jam him. Press him back onto the corner and drill his body with upper cuts, but it had been a long time since she was a fresh-faced young girl who would just dive into such an obviously unfavorable situation; besides, she and her manager had a strategy.

She found herself drifting from one side of the Agent's corner to the other, head constantly in motion and hands held high in defense, firing light jabs and crosses aimed both high and low, looking for holes in his defense. She kept being pushed back, however, forced to retreat before those utterly vicious attacks which seemed to appear out of thin air.

The Agent's attacks were not in any way intended to score points with the judges; it was barely even boxing. It was almost like dealing with a force of nature, or perhaps an unbreakable law set on the ring. To advance past a certain point was to be broken; every single one of Free Agent's strikes was meant to knock out his opponent in a single blow.

Saber began to perceive an even more narrow focus in the man. It wasn't so much the length of his arms that he converted into a kill zone; it was a space of about six inches from the edge of his gloved fists to the edge of hers. The gap between their reaches was the paramount danger area where she would have to guard against at least one of his blows before delivering any of her own.

She was still trying to find a target for her first punch when the bell rang.

Shirou immediately hopped through the ropes and began inspecting her. Neither side had landed anything resembling a punch, so the kit Shirou carried with a towel and cut gear was unnecessary, though he gave her face a professional once-over to be certain. He then gave her a mouthful of water which she spit out into a bucket. It was just to wash out and wet her mouth; water in the stomach was bad during a match, that's why Shirou had her drink a great deal a few hours before to ensure she would be hydrated now.

"Ok, not bad, Saber," Shirou said, looking intense, "we learned a lot about him and I am pretty sure we didn't lose the round, at least not by much." He said, with an eye towards the judging table, who seemed confused on how to handle an entire round without any on-target blows.

"Now, he keeps staying in that corner. Why? I think he has a slow sidestep and knows it, so he doesn't want to hand his opponent a chance to slip by. I want you in there working the high block; look for a parry and see if you can't slug him loose. Then work him over. If you can't get him to step out, keep making him swing those arms of his, those full force punches of his look exhausting. He doesn't seem to like to jab either so stay to the middle. Make him stretch his crosses, that should give you a chance to knock him around."

Saber nodded at the new strategy and replaced her mouthguard while the timer counted down to the next round. As the bell clanged, she pounded her gloves together to psych herself up and advanced in. As expected, the Free Agent simply held his ground in his little corner. Saber slowly advanced and then leaped the last meter in a blur of action, pulling back her head swiftly right before a furious uppercut split the air where her chin had been a moment before. The sound of the near miss cut the air, loud in Saber's ears. She leaned in and fired a body cross but was again forced to turn the attack hand inside with a crackle of leather on leather to knock aside the Agent's left hook, which struck like the tail of a scorpion, raising slightly up and then slamming down, intending to bash her down to the canvas. The force of the blow caused her foot to grind flat onto the canvas as she hunched under the blow behind her fists, giving her momentum and the chance to instep off the punch to the left side, a pirouette of motion that put her far enough back she felt the cool leather of the rope against her sweating skin.

Not, generally speaking, a great place to be, but it put her left hand to the inside of the Agent and his kill zone. If she could just give him a good body shot, she could knock him into the center of the…

A sudden spark of her instincts rippled through her body like a current of electricity, causing her to raise both gloves to protect her face just in the nick of time. Right through her gloves she felt the impact from a pair of straights that struck like twin spears and left her hands pulsing with stinging pain, but she was able to turn the second punch with a clever twist of her hand and deliver a chin-thumping jab-cross combo that got her weight behind it, staggering the assassin, his passive face betraying a hint of pain behind his violet eyes.

Exhilaration lightened Saber's footsteps and lent grace to her follow-up, a blistering triple combo to the body that bruised his pale stomach. Unfortunately, she proved too greedy in taking the last punch, as her enemy took a half backstep, his foot twisting with a squeak on the sweat-slicked surface of the ring, and utilizing Saber's own momentum against her he launched a hook straight to her body. The vicious counterattack that caused Saber to grunt in pain had enough momentum to knock her onto her backstep into the center of the ring.

For a moment she was furious with herself.

_All that work to get inside wasted, should have pushed him…_

…? At that thought Saber felt a surge of adrenaline hit her shaking muscles. She was in great danger! The Agent hadn't simply pushed her out of his corner, completely at odds with his fighting style up to this point; he had actually stepped with her. And now that Saber looked, she could see Shirou had a point: his steps were just a little uncertain, not a large weakness, but a real one. He was a like a serpent moving through the grass, equal parts grace and lethality, but much more terrifying when already coiled and ready to strike. So why had he surrendered his advantage…

It was then she noticed his hands had come up. The entire match, he had never assumed a boxing stance; if he wasn't throwing punches, he had left his arms relaxed. Now however, he held one fist closed to his chest and the other, palm held inward, by his right ear. For a second, Saber was reminded of a man holding a sword lazily over his shoulder. Then the nameless man attacked.

It was beautiful. All truly deadly things were. In boxing, the finisher punch was a single blow; with the exception of a haymaker, it was usually the finisher of a combo, the deadly hook or cross used on an opponent staggered by jabs. This was not such an attack; a right cross with all the Free Agent's power rocketed out, splitting the air with a whistling sound towards Saber's head, and somehow at the same time, an underhanded power hook curled from left to right across Saber's stomach, and in the mix, the final stroke, a chin-smashing uppercut that somehow came after…or even stranger, _in_ _between_ the two strokes that came before.

A perfect triple combination delivered so flawlessly that it was like being struck by a single unbeatable punch. There was an interwoven melody of leather hammering home onto bare skin that ended with the sound of Saber's grunts of pain forced out through her mouthguard. The final blow across Saber's chin quite literally knocked her off her feet and crashing to the canvas, arms spread limply to each side of her.

Dimly, Saber could hear numbers over her head. She seemed to be having trouble placing what they meant. In a flush of rage and emotion it came to her: the count which signaled a K.O.

Now that she focused, she could put together the referee's words and the crowd chanting along with him.

"4...5...6…7!"

With a growl she rolled over onto her aching stomach and used both gloves to push herself to her feet before the count could go on. Naturally the Free Agent was back in his corner. He still looked relaxed yet threatening, but there was an odd turn to the half-lidded eye he turned on her. Saber wondered if he had not expected her to get up. She wanted to press an attack, but with the way the last go had worked out, she settled for trading mostly ineffectual jabs across his kill zone until the round ended.

Shirou didn't look happy, but he looked less frustrated than Saber felt, as he dabbed a compress over her eye where the Agent had landed his hook, trying to keep it from bruising shut.

"I am not sure I can press him enough," Saber admitted after removing her mouthguard. "And even if I do, that attack is deadly."

"That's ok, just breath for a second, let your wind come back into you," Shirou said, momentarily on basics. Saber struggles to calm herself and breathe the air her body was struggling for into the bottom of her lungs. "All right," Shirou said after a moment "That didn't go well and I think the refs found that one easier to score, but I noticed something. Our boy over there" Shirou nodded over to the Agent who was receiving some light care for his mostly negligible injuries, "Has absolutely no chin."

Saber blinked in surprise, but now that she thought about it…

"You caught him with a cross on your back foot, he managed to shift his head some and was still knocked back, and it took him a second to get his feet under him. I think he has a decent stomach, which is why he shook off your body blows. So here is what you are gonna do."

Shirou dropped a bit till his lips were almost touching Saber's ear. "Saber, I want you to get in close and _hurt _this guy. Work inside and don't try and work his gut, you bash in his pretty head a few times and he won't be smirking after the next round. We owe him one for last round too, right?"

Saber agreed, and didn't say anything; she didn't need to. She popped her mouthpiece back in. Shirou had a point, the Agent was strong but he was only human, he wasn't perfect, so he worked hard to cover his weaknesses. His instep was slow, so he stayed in the corner; he had a glass jaw and so compensated by pushing his attacker to the outside where he could take them apart with his fierce, deadly punches. It was a risky strategy since Saber had come out the worse from trading blows a moment ago, but it suited her nature.

When the bell for the third round started, Saber pressed immediately, her feet rapping across the canvas in a near-run. She caught a momentary flicker of surprise from the Agent; he had probably been expecting a more nuanced attack after the last round. That didn't stop him from throwing a precise and tight hook…which Saber met by slamming her own gloved hand directly into. There was a clap of leather on leather, and a shockwave of force that coursed its way through both the fighters' veins went through their arms at the contact, but Saber recovered first, having expected the impact. She slid inside, her body was a little gust of wind, and instead of taking the obvious counter she rolled a shoulder and slipped the Free Agent's second tight upper cut which cracked the air where her head would have been had she gone for it.

Then she let him have it with a blistering four-count jab double cross into a bruising hook combination that slammed him back into his own damn ring pole. The steel of the pole rung with a bell tone right through the leather padding surrounding it; had it not been there, Saber was sure he would have gone to the canvas, but he managed to bounce off well and came back in swinging. He had lost a little of his easy cool, but unfortunately the same trick wouldn't work twice. His first punch turned out to be a feint and her parry only caught air. His off-hand sucker-punched her with a jab setting up a cross that made her head reel, but Saber refused to be driven back. Instead of pulling her head and dancing back to reduce the power of the punch, she slugged the Agent sharply in the side to open his stance and then drilled an uppercut into his chin.

This was brutal, elemental fighting; trading blow for blow, Saber could taste blood in her mouth. She slipped left around a jab, then bobbed the other way around a second and stopped a punishing hook cold on her left fist, pushing the hand aside with a grunt of effort and blasting the Agent with a rapid fire triple jab combo across his face. For the first time she heard him groan in pain and vexation as more of her blows sailed home.

Saber was just starting to find a groove when the Agent made a beautiful parry on a hook she might have put just a hair too much power into and caught a beast of an uppercut across her chin.

The lights of the arena slid around her like falling stars as Saber fell back, flailing. For a moment, time seemed to slow around her. Her vision went pure white. She knew she had to focus, there was no way the Agent wouldn't follow up, but she just couldn't seem to get her bearings. Sounds, sights and smells swirled around her head, the dancing lights, the taste of her own blood, the sound of the roaring crowd mixed together in what was known as Boxer's haze, a situation where a boxer had to try to go on instinct, usually a time for a clinch, but she wasn't even completely sure where her opponent _was_.

A voice seemed to pierce into her.

"Left instep, backstep, parry high, counter cross into double jab low!"

Saber still fought to get her bearings, but even as she did, she felt the excellent sensation of skin against the roughened leather of her gloves. Without even thinking, she followed the voice which seemed to slowly lead her mind back to clearing itself of the fog which held it.

"Redirect right, step out, right hook!" Saber's vision finally made out the blurry form of the Agent who had stepped out to finish her off, which snapped her back into focus. As she did so, her body stopped unconsciously following the call outs Emiya Shirou had been yelling at her. Just like a training drill after fourteen hours, where a fighter, trying to break through a wall, trains at absolutely precise techniques when so tired she can barely stand. The Agent must have realized she had regained her focus, but if her previous attack had been an overextension, his had been as well. Or maybe it wasn't.

He should, and would have been able to take her down while her head was swimming had it not been for the intervention of Emiya Shirou. Now however, he had been drawn to the middle of the ring. Saber brought her feet fully under her and lunged, left hand held low. There was a feeling of clarity. Some would say time slowed down, but that was not precisely accurate, it was more like there was so much riding on a single second that it could no longer hold the moment.

The Agent moved his hands up. It was his one stance that signaled the set up for his perfect combination. He was a man who used his flawless offense to shore up his weak defense; he couldn't retreat in the face of Saber's attack, he was too far out of the corner and could only meet her charge here, and so he would do so with his greatest attack. The air whuffed slowly out of his lungs, as, even in the midst of a dangerous gambit, he felt no tension, only the thrill of battle. His hands lunged out in the perfect trio of punches that could knock out even a strong fighter in a single perfect movement.

…About a quarter of a second after Saber's wild haymaker collided with the right side of his jaw.

The moment ended. Even the Agent couldn't maintain his attack when he was thrown into a near cartwheel through the air, his fists looping futily in motion of an attack that was no longer a threat. As Saber stood with her tiny body heaving, the Agent slammed into a rolling fall onto the canvas, finally coming to a stop near the corner that was no longer his, with both arms slung behind his head.

His eyes were rolled back in his head, but somehow his usually cocky grin had become a trace gentler, satisfied. The referee began the count.

It was a formality and everyone knew it. But for Saber, it was also a celebration, a coronation of her victory back into the ring she had missed so much. As the count reached ten, she held a tired but victorious gloved hand into the air. The crowd seemed to stir uneasily; for a moment it had seemed like Saber would surely lose, then the counter had brought it to a stunning finish. There was almost dead silence for a moment.

Then, in the midst of the audience, a certain brown-haired girl leaped onto her chair and hollered with sheer delight, which seemed to set the rest of the crowd off, roaring in surprised exhilaration at the conclusion to such a nail-biting match.

Saber felt a hand touch her wrist around her glove, holding her arm up. It was Shirou, looking flushed and exhausted and thrilled all at once.

They had won their first match. There was a dizzying feeling that came from the flashing of bulbs, cameras, videos, cell phones, of the press of fans over the velvet rope trying to touch you as you walked back that was indescribable.

For Saber, this was a return to a familiar feeling, but as they pressed through happily to the locker rooms, she knew for Shirou it was an absolute first. He had won a few fights before, but never a match like this. The roar and emotion of the crowd was almost a thing alive. To each side, guards pushed the fans back, creating a path for them to walk through, but Saber almost wished they weren't there. The crowd's energy seemed to flow into and through her in an exhilarated rush. She caught a beaming smile from Shirou and knew he felt the same way.

"Congratulations Saber" Shirou said, still ecstatic over her victory "I had faith in you."

"Ah…" Saber breathed out, recalling what had happened earlier. But things were different now. _Now _she could see what Rin had been trying to get at, the disconnect that meant the difference between victory and defeat.

"Shirou." Saber said, drawing her small stature up almost formally. "There is something I wish for you to know. When I first trained, my mentor was an old man. He was a very laissez-faire type who always talked casually about boxing, but he loved the sport. He taught me that love, I think." Saber paused for a moment, enjoying a happy memory before her face clouded slightly.

"However, my next manager was not so kind. I do not believe he was rude, or evil, but I would call him complacent. He was so sure of my ability that he never pushed me; he left me to push myself when I trained. When my…" Saber still found the event painful to think about, and spoke little of it for that reason, "Downfall occurred, he did not stand by me. As I knew he would not."

For once though, where this story would have had a gloomy end, she now had a new part to add onto it. "However, as your fighter, you have trained me with everything you have; I do not believe it's a lie to say I am in better shape physically then I have ever been in. Further, it is my belief if a similar event were to happen, you would stand by me. When I fought that boxer, there was a moment in which I did not know what to do, yet when you called out, my body responded. I believe I understand now what Rin was trying to say."

"What's that?" Shirou asked, a questioning expression on his face.

"It's simple, Shirou" Saber said, warmly. "You do have faith in me. I know that, and wish to reward that faith. But you should know…I also have faith in you. That's all."

Saber saw Shirou's face flush again. Joy, like before, but a different type then the thrill of victory. A bit embarrassed, she held out an ungloved fist, which he wrapped his knuckles against, reaffirming their status as a team. For a minute, Saber was ready to take on the whole world.

But just for a minute.

"Wait, wait, Stop!"

The cry came from the hall; Saber recognized it immediately as the voice of Tohsaka Rin, the young manager who had taught her and Shirou a valuable lesson, she was following close behind a pair of white-clothed arena paramedics with a man on a gurney. With a start, Saber realized the face behind the thick oxygen mask was the cocky fighter Rin had brought with her, the Guardian. His arrogant features were now twisted with pain. Shirou took off after the speeding gurney, leading Saber to fall into step behind him.

When they reached the outside of the arena, they began to load the gurney into a proper ambulance. Saber could see a bit more of the Guardian now; she could see bruises on his ribs, and his arms looked mangled, almost certainly broken.

"I am going with him." Rin informed one of the medics. He tried to shoo her off, and he failed. Badly. Rin all but pushed her way inside the cramped van.

"Rin…" Shirou said in dismay "What happened?!"

Rin gave Shirou a cold look that softened quickly before his obvious and real concern. Then she actually looked embarrassed. Or perhaps mad as hell.

"It was…the Golden Boy." Rin replied, shutting the door of the ambulance as it sped off into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

The cab on the way to the hospital was gloomy and silent. Not the expected emotion after Saber's long-desired and much-needed win. Shirou wasn't sure himself why he and Saber had both felt the need to follow after Rin and the Guardian. They were powerful rivals; their misfortune was something that theoretically benefited the Emiya Gym. Still…he felt like maybe he owed it to them to be there. The Guardian was not his fighter, but he had been one of his father's. Along with that, even though it had taken Shirou and Saber a while to pick through Rin's lesson, it had been an important and much-needed one. It was possible that things in the match with the Free Agent might have developed badly without her words rattling around in the back of their minds, and the margin of error they had in that match had not been large.

"Shirou," Saber said, the flickering lights of the passing city crisscrossing her face. "I have heard of Fuyuki's _Golden Boy_, but only the basics. Is he truly such a powerful fighter as to break the Guardian?"

"…"

Shirou was silent for a moment. The Golden Boy was one of the most popular boxers in Japan; he practically owned the King of Boxers tournament, and Saber appeared to be having trouble placing the name. It was a humbling reminder of the difference between Shirou and Saber. Saber was a Welsh Boxer who had been mastering the international world of boxing. To Shirou, the King of Boxers championship belt on one of his fighters was a precious, almost impossible dream. To Saber however, it was a stepping stone, a suitable arena for her comeback tour. It made Shirou feel small, but at the same time proud. The world of boxing that he loved suddenly seemed a larger place.

"His real name is Gilgamesh," Shirou began slowly. "He is the adopted son of Kotomine Kirei, his manager.

"Kotomine…Kirei?" Saber said, tilting her head.

"Kirei is...a long story." Shirou said, grimacing, raising a hand to forestall further questions. There was some history there he didn't want to come boiling out right this second.

"Gilgamesh is…well, he is bad news. You remember the Glorious Number Two position?" Shirou asked Saber.

Saber nodded. Early on in their training Shirou had said it was something she would have to overcome, but he hadn't provided the details back then. They had been concentrating on restoring her physical conditioning rather than scouting.

"You win through the tournament for the right to face Gilgamesh and his _Original Boxer_ style of combat. …But nobody ever wins. He has defeated every opponent to face him in the title fight for the belt since he entered onto the scene a few years ago."

"Is he so powerful then?" Saber said, sounding impressed…and maybe a little feisty, Shirou thought.

"Not…quite." Shirou hedged, trying to frame his thoughts. "The Golden boy…cheats." Shirou said, admitting the secret embarrassment of the King of Boxers tournament. "Not everyone knows of course, but the managers and a few of the really serious fans figured it out pretty quickly. Gilgamesh _owns_ the King of Boxers tournament through the Treasury Corporation, and he uses it. He is a pretty good boxer, but there are a few that are probably better than him when it comes to ability. It doesn't matter."

Shirou looked at Saber to gauge her reaction; she looked shocked. It was a pretty big revelation, Shirou remembered how he had felt the first time he had found out.

"When you are fighting him, you have to be very careful on your shots. Go too low on the stomach, and the refs will call you for an illegal blow below the belt. Get a good hook in, and you get called for throwing an elbow. Fighters who have a style that's particularly dangerous suffer injuries or get washed out in fights that should have been called for them, and you will _never_ beat Gilgamesh by judging. It's impossible. Taking on Gilgamesh is like fighting the entire Treasury. Also, he dopes."

"He what?!" Saber said, surprised out of her silence.

Shirou nodded to her. "Yeah, it's that bad. Of course his drug test, thoughtfully run by the Treasury, always comes back clean, but he uses enhancers. Hell, a year or so back a random screening caught him with a mix of painkillers in his system. Due to the time frame, they could only have been administered during a fight the night before, probably in his water bottle. But during the investigation the evidence "somehow" got lost. No evidence, no case, the story got buried."

Shirou took a breath; he noticed Saber's expression was beginning to change from shock to anger. He felt the same way. Gilgamesh made a mockery of boxing.

"Steroids too, a lot of them, particularly in his right arm. Rumor has it he gets injections for the rest of his body once a month but his right arm is twice a week. It's what he uses for his…"Shirou trailed off, bad memories resurfacing.

"…What is it, Shirou?" Saber said her voice oddly soft.

Shirou sighed. It was painful to talk about, but he certainly couldn't keep it from Saber. He breathed in to answer her…

…When the cab came to a stop. They had been so deep into conversation Shirou hadn't realized they were arriving. He reached into his pocket for his meager supply of bills but the cabbie waved him off.

"Haha!" The mustached man let out a gruff laugh at odds with the earlier atmosphere. "I just had _the _Saber in my cab! I should be paying you, I'll be bragging to my fares for months. Didn't you know…?" The cab driver gave Saber a cocky wink. "Everyone is a boxing fan in Fuyuki!"  
Saber bowed her head in thanks, and then they went to the front desk to ask where the Guardian had been taken to.

"How is he?" Shirou diffidently asked Rin, as he and Saber were admitted in.

The hospital bedroom was dimly lit, but it was an actual trauma room as opposed to a bed partitioned off by curtains, evidence of either the severity of the Guardian's injuries or Rin's money, if not both. Rin was sitting in a chair nearby the bed. The Guardian was lying under a filmy, transparent sheet, stripped to the waist. Bandages were wrapped around his chest area, and both his arms were held in protective slings at the elbow to keep them locked in place. His earlier rich tan color had paled due to shock and injury.

Saber's first thought was that, while she was not a wonderful judge of facial expressions, at least not when outside the ring, Rin certainly did not look like she was about to cry; rather, she looked like she was looking for an excuse to hit someone. Saber hoped Shirou hadn't just volunteered.

Rin, though, just put her head into her hands. She didn't seem surprised to see them. Maybe it wasn't surprising; the Guardian had once trained at the Emiya gym.

"…I screwed up…" Rin admitted, not really answering the question. "I put him into an exhibition match. I thought it would be a good chance to experience the _Original_ style before we fought him for real."

"Were you looking to test the Golden Boy's ability level?" Saber asked, curious about an opponent she knew she would have to face to win the belt.

Rin shook her head slowly.

"It's hard to find specialists to train in the _Original Boxing_ style. We…" Rin broke off for a moment, looking at the Guardian, and, after a moment, put her hand over his. Saber idly thought that probably wasn't the kind of thing Rin would have done if she thought the Guardian was awake.

"Tonight our opponent dropped out. Some dark-skinned woman with her face painted white. The Many-Faced Boxer; we trained for the fight of course, but she wouldn't have been a problem. At the last second she canceled and her gym tried to bring in a free agent." Shirou blinked at the familiar story. Rin smiled a little at that, recovering a little of her energy. "It's actually not an uncommon strategy. You shouldn't focus so much only on your own boxer; people will take advantage of you, Emiya-kun."

Rin smiled for a moment before the darkness returned to her eyes. "But I am different than you. We refused to accept the new fighter." Rin shook her head, shocked at the rapid changes that had happened recently. "Money is important, but winning is even better. After we refused the match, the Guardian received a special invitation: a one-round exhibition match against the Golden Boy himself, it seemed like such a good opportunity…"

Saber started putting the pieces together. Rin had been offered a chance to gauge the talents and style of the Golden Boy personally. It must have been a lure to draw her out; Shirou had mentioned that Gilgamesh tended to move against troublesome boxers.

Shirou looked like he was about to ask another question when a nurse stuck her head into the room and made eye contact with Rin. Rin got up to follow her out, with Shirou close behind. Saber stayed in her chair, which she wasn't sure they noticed as they walked out into the hall. For a moment she just sat in the darkness, letting the air flow in and out of her. It hadn't been so long that she had been experiencing a rush of exhilaration under the stadium lights, and now she was again seeing the seedy underside of the sport she loved so much.

"…I didn't think anyone had noticed." The gravelly voice said finally.

Saber's expression did not change. "In our line of work, one begins to learn the difference between someone who is unconscious, and one who is merely holding his eyes closed. Are you not on any medication then?"

"Hmph." It was a cross between a grunt and a sardonic laugh. "Managers have the final say over dosages. When they loaded me up, Rin panicked and gave them her own body weight instead of mine. I did not correct her."

They sat in silence for a moment. Sometimes company needed no conversation. They weren't friends, or even allies. One had won a match, and one had lost. But both were fighters walking the same road, and sometimes that was enough.

"He hasn't told you, has he? That manager of yours, I mean." The Guardian said after a moment. Saber tilted her head in reply.

"I didn't think so. He doesn't like to think about it. Emiya Shirou is the type of punk kid who walks with his head in the clouds and an ideal stuck between his ears instead of a brain. Thinking about that day would require thinking; we can't have that." The Guardian's voice was filled with derision.

Saber's face set in anger. "I will not attack a wounded man, but I will not stand and listen while…"

"Yes, yes, while someone insults your kind manager, but I take precedence there," the Guardian said, for the first time looking annoyed. Saber caught herself in surprise, halfway raised out of her chair in preparation to leave.

That was right though, the Guardian had served in the Emiya gym once too. "Well, I was a fighter for his father really, the only time Shirou and I worked together was under Emiya Kiritsugu's guidance. That was back when I was the_Boxer of Justice_. What a laugh." The Guardian's voice filled with contempt again.

"Anyway, I trained under Shirou too for a little while. I was a failure, but I still fought. That makes me your _senpai_, you should listen to your elder when he is offering good advice."

"And what is that good advice?" Saber said, her anger returning. "Quit the gym, as you did?"

"No," The Guardian said, cutting her off. "It's this. _Beware what defeated Emiya_. The original one, as well as me."

Saber blinked; she had no idea what he was talking about.

The Guardian sighed. "Ten years ago, Emiya Kiritsugu fought against Kotomine Kirei, pitting his own _Boxer Hunter_ style against Kirei's _Executor_. I watched the fight sitting next to Emiya Shirou. That was back when _I_ was just a punk kid with my eyes in the clouds and with an ideal stuck between my ears instead of a brain. I watched a man I loved like a father be broken."

Saber could hear the truth in his words. She knew from Shirou that Kiritsugu had lost against Kirei and retired afterwards, but didn't know many details beyond that.

"You won't face the _Executor_ style, but a relic of it passed into the hands of the Golden Boy. …No, it is not just a relic; the blow used by Kirei was refined into its original form, this I learned just today."

"What occurred, Guardian?" Saber asked, looking at his wounds again.

"The match was going well; I was keeping him pinned back on the ropes. I gave the referees no chance to flag me for a penalty. My style is too precise. He was also a little rusty; do not expect that when you face him. However…I was caught off guard."

The Guardian showed real frustration for a moment, a bit of the anger he must have been holding back at being eliminated from the tournament flickering to life for only a moment.

"I keep in my head the clock of the match, that way I can guide the tempo of the match from start to finish. The Golden Boy worked his way out of the corner and even managed to work me back into the ropes on the left side. I was not concerned, because I knew the end was approaching. I believed I had learned what I could and would be ready to face him in the title fight. Then the bell did not ring."

The Guardian shook his head, his wood-colored eyes burning.

"I doubt anyone else noticed, but the match time was extended by a single second, two at most. When the bell did not ring…I glanced over at the time clock. I took my eyes off my opponent. That's when he used it; he was ready for me to become distracted."

"It?" Saber asked, believing she had finally come to the reason the Guardian had wished to speak with her.

"…_The Punch that Splits the Heaven and Earth_." He said, almost reverently.

"The wh…hmm?!" Saber cut herself off, shock filling her eyes. The extensive damage to The Guardian's body, she had believed it had been the result of a sustained beating, but he had just said up until a single second he had been unharmed, even winning.

"Guardian," Saber breathed… "Surely you are not saying that…"

"All from one single punch. "The Guardian assured her with a nod. "The bones in both of my wrists are shattered, I have a few bruised ribs, and maybe one is cracked. That's with me using the prescribed defense. the Guardian finished, looking almost merry at her shock and dismay. "To call it a hook is to insult it. To call it a haymaker is to insult it. A punch delivered with the right arm that destroys the opponent's body. Boxers who have taken the blow with a wrong or improperly applied defense have never walked again. Rumors have it some have even died."

"How…how do you stop it?" Saber asked. She had never heard of such an impossible strike before coming to Japan!

"Shirou mentioned his right arm is juiced?" Saber nodded slowly. "You don't stop the blow that Splits Heaven and Earth, you slow it down. That's actually how it gets its name. It is impossible to parry, and a normal block won't stop its entire force. If you simply get your gloves in the way, the blow will shatter your arms, dislocate both shoulders and won't merely crack ribs, but snap them in half. You have to use a cross block, arm braced just above his fist's arc, and one just below. As he strikes, his fist will spin, twisting the cross block out of the way but slowing the strike just slightly."

The Guardian paused a moment, reflecting on his condition. This was the result after flawlessly applying the best defense he or anyone else had against it. "You can get away with just broken arms in that case. I watched it destroy Emiya Kiritsugu ten years ago. Kirei used it for the first time, when it had no name, and no defense against it. It shattered his body, Kiritsugu never boxed again."

Saber was flabbergasted. Could such an absurd technique truly exist? But the Guardian's wounds were real. She understood the name, the defense of above and below; Heaven and Earth that were split by the incoming punch. A defense that did not allow one to win, only lose gracefully. What an awful, fearsome technique.

The Guardian had been wary, played to his defensive strengths, kept the Golden Boy from setting up his ultimate attack, but with the match rigged, he had been off guard for a moment. Her enemy was a fighter who commanded the Treasury which could control a match through endless machinations even to the point of beating the Guardian, and the Punch which Split Heaven and Earth.

…That was who she had to defeat to receive her wish and return to the world of boxing.

"Why are you telling me this…" Saber asked after a moment of silence.

"Not sure," the Guardian said. Saber was sure he was lying. "When I was trying to be the Boxer of Justice in truth as well as name, I was just a loser. Emiya Kiritsugu took me under his wing. …But that was not a good place to be for a boxer. He was a great boxer, I idolized him, but he was a horrible manager. I would have never gone anywhere if I hadn't found a new manager. Still…my favorite boxer shattered. I'll admit, that never sat right with me. I think I just really wanted to wipe the smirk off that Kotomine's face. Sometimes I think the only reason I am still boxing is because I haven't done it yet. Sorry, I am sure it's an insult to the brave and noble Saber," the Guardian's voice began to fill with his usual annoyance again. "But my reason for fighting isn't love of the sport or to be number one…I just really, really hate to lose."

It _was_ insulting, Saber thought, a boxer who did not survive and thrive through love of the sport or even competitive spirit but through sheer unyielding cussedness. Still, Saber had seen boxers like him a few times before, though they were usually much older. This was the type of man for whom fighting had become a chore, an unwelcome burden, but one that for whatever reason it could not be put down.

"Saber?" Her reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice. Emiya Shirou stuck his head into the room. His tone was soft as to avoid waking the other occupant. Saber noted the Guardian's eyes had snapped shut again. Shirou nudged his head to indicate she should accompany him. Saber nodded to the injured man once more, and left him to the darkness and his thoughts.

There was a spark in Rin's eyes as Saber approached; surprise? Or perhaps it was jealousy that someone else had sat with her boxer instead of her.

"What is the situation?" Saber asked. Forestalling any questions, she did not feel it was her place to inform Rin that the Guardian was awake.

"Mmm…seems like he managed to take the broken bones in places that will heal quickly, or as quickly as can be expected. His wrists are a mess, but with some physical therapy he will probably not lose the ability to use his hands." The question over whether he would be able to box again hung like a dark cloud over them all, unanswered. After a moment Rin rubbed one of her eyes, stifling a yawn.

"T-Tohsaka…let us know if there are any changes. Saber and I…" Shirou trailed off. '_Have to get ready for our next match…'_ was the unspoken finish to the sentence; the next match in a tournament Rin was no longer a part of. Rin nodded, silently. She was a manager too. She understood.  
During the cab ride home, Saber explained what had transpired between her and the Guardian.

"Sorry…" Shirou could only apologize, bowing his head. "It's not that I didn't want to tell you about the Golden Boy and his Punch…"

Saber could see Shirou struggling to put his thoughts into words. As the Guardian had explained it to her, she understood his feelings. The Punch that had shattered his dream along with his father's body, was a poorly healed wound on his mind he didn't like to prod at, lest the scab open up and ooze unwelcome thoughts out. Privately, she had to admit that the Guardian had done her a huge favor.

"Remember…" Saber said slowly into the darkness. "This is something we will face together."

Shirou could only nod in reply. Saber hoped that was a flicker of determination she saw cross his shadowed eyes. Maybe he too, like the Guardian, hated to lose.

At the gym, though they were both exhausted, Shirou insisted on bringing in Taiga's laptop and replaying the match between the Guardian and the Golden Boy. Gilgamash was a bronzed, handsome man with a shock of gold hair which was undoubtedly the source of his name. His trunks were also gold-colored, finely woven with textures that caught the light as if actually made of precious metals. The fans cheered him wildly. As they watched the match, Saber noted how skillfully the Guardian had pressed him with jabs, smoothly controlling every part of the match not in the purview of the referee.

The ring was the Guardian's personal world, one he controlled with ruthless perfection. The power of the Golden Boy, whose vicious strikes were based on extremely orthodox boxing styles without variation, made powerful due to his impressive physique, was equalized, thrown just a hair off balance by the Guardian's smooth footwork. Every step was intended to draw the Golden Boy off his stance, creating vulnerabilities where none should exist; when he pinned him against the post, the Guardian's precise jabs never failed to find high point value targets while avoiding anything that a referee could "misinterpret".

Shirou held a pocket watch with a timer that went into the hundredths of a second, a gift from his father. A timer at the bottom of the screen relayed the match time from the large electronic clock the officials used. At the very end of the match, Saber could clearly see it. The two was just changing into a one. The Guardian blinked, his gaze drawn almost against his will to the match clock.…And just as it happened — no, perhaps even before the Guardian blinked — the Golden Boy had shifted his weight. When the Guardian looked back, Gilgamesh was already firing his ultimate punch. The look on the Guardian's face was calm. There was no surprise there; perhaps he had realized the trap, but just a moment after it had been sprung, a single eye twitch after he had lost the opportunity to escape. Just as Gilgamesh attacked with the _Punch that Split the Heaven and the Earth_, the Guardian's lips twisted into a self-mocking grin and caught the attack between a cross block. Just as he had said, the Golden Boy's fists twisted slightly, flinging the Guardian's arms out of the way, and slammed into his side. The force of the blow, even blocked, was enough to lift the Guardian into the air and, as the bell sounded, actually out of the ring into the first row. He fell limply to the hard concrete ground covered in blue mats.

Technically this match wasn't a knock out. The bell rung before the Guardian could be counted out, and a fighter knocked from the ring had twenty seconds to return. The bell ringing before the count was a match end; in other words, the round was over. But having been knocked down was enough to sway the Guardian's earlier point total into the favor of the Golden Boy. Normally that would be arguable, but the Judges were part of the power of the Treasury. Gilgamesh was given the round on pints as the Guardian was loaded onto a stretcher. The last camera frame was on the stark white face of Tohsaka Rin, frozen in dismay.

"Saber and Shirou looked at the timer in Shirou's hand, his thumb on the stopping mechanism on top. He had pressed it the second the bell sounded. Three minutes...

…One point sixty-five seconds. The Guardian had been right. The round time was handled mechanically, there was no way for this to be a result of simple human error. The only possibility was that someone had reconfigured the clock to leave a tiny fraction of a second extra between ticks, just enough so that at the end it would be just a hair off the expectation of the Guardian. It was so clever. Even if they somehow launched a complaint and the timing came out, well then, so what? It would be ruled a minor technical glitch which the judges would rule inconclusive, and the Guardian would just seem like a sore loser.

"We are going to defeat him." It was a pledge that Saber made at that moment, in her heart. She may not like the Guardian, but she could respect a warrior. This Golden Boy…he had no pride at all as a warrior. He took it for granted that the world owed him his victory and orchestrated events to that end.  
"He isn't our opponent yet, Saber. Keep your head in the game" It was an almost automatic response from Shirou, a statement from her manager that wanted her to always be thinking about the next match and her next opponent, though she could see a fire behind his eyes. If it was possible, he may have been looking forward to the fight with Gilgamesh even more than she was.

"Has our next opponent been decided?" Saber said, consciously forcing her mind to consider the task at hand. Shirou's fingers rapped over the keyboard.

"Yeah, it looks like it is just being updated now. Shirou and Saber leaned in together to see the name come up.

"…Ooh, that one." Shirou said after a moment.

"I do not recognize the name." Saber said blankly.

"It's kind of a joke around the King of Boxers tournament. During her first tournament entry she had been signing some paperwork when the pen she was using ran out of ink. The girl at the front desk didn't happen to have another one. So this fighter, she takes the girl's hand and shoves the pin into it, opened up a damn vein, and used the blood to sign her name. She ended up getting disqualified and doing time for it. I hear her manager had to pay a fortune to get her readmitted, but ever since then, they call her the _Blood Writer_. But sometimes that gets shortened a little bit," Shirou finished, looking back at the screen. It read: 

**Saber vs. Writer**  
**Coming soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

"Come on, let's go!"

The sound cracked through the air of the otherwise silent gym. At that moment, there were only two people inside, the air dimly lit by starlight filtering through the windows. The sun was slower to rise than the pair already hard at work.

Emiya Shirou was wearing his usual training gear, but that early his fighter wore a pair of sweatpants tied off at the waist with a loose overshirt she could tuck in against the cold. It went without saying that a fighter's body was under considerable stress during the tournament, and Shirou considered it one of his duties, if not his foremost one, to manage the health of his stable of one. He held a grip onto Saber's feet while she was doing crunches.

"Faster, let's go!" Shirou said, his voice accompanied by the rhythmic sounds of Saber's breath whooshing in and out, along with the thrum of her body cutting the air. They had been at it a while now already, a trail of sweat having soaked into the mat.

"That's one fifty, you are off-time, pick it up! This is what Writer is doing right now, you know, do you think she is off-time too? I bet she is having a great workout**—** _move it!" _Saber's face was caught in a grimace at hearing her next opponent's name, a mixture of pain and determination. Shirou carefully didn't let a smirk cross his face as her movements just slightly but noticeably sped up.

"That's it, now finish strong, we are just getting started. That's one eighty, you got twenty left. You know what Writer is doing right now, what are _you_ gonna do?" She didn't speed up anymore, but she damn well tried. Her last five were completed with a slight gasps as muscles cramping in her stomach cried out for rest she would not give them.

_God, he was proud of her.  
_  
She carefully finished the last crunch before allowing her body to flop onto the mat. Shirou was encouraged that her training took over and, instead of gasping for air, she was carefully breathing in and out, managing her air intake to properly fill her lungs.

"Hey, don't get too comfortable, we are just getting started." Shirou admonished her, glancing at his timekeeper. "All right, not bad. Take some water and five minutes, and then get on the rope."

Saber nodded, toweling herself off a blue cloth emblazoned with the Emiya dojo symbol, a relic of better times when Emiya Kiritsugu had been able to afford little stylistic choices like that. Saber opened the little fridge by the training ring and pulled out an unmarked, clear bottle of water. Emiya Shirou had his own recipe of electrolyte-infused water he prepared for her; usually the homemade stuff had a bit of a raw flavor, but Shirou's was always delicious.

That had been one of the more enjoyable differences between her current manager and her former one. Before Shirou, she would have said she preferred her old manager's style which largely left her to her own devices and let her train as she wished, but Emiya was the complete opposite, his constant oversight of her training regimen was practically overbearing. On the other hand, there were little touches like the water or the garnishes he added to the meals he cooked to take care of her morale as well as her body; she had to admit she thrived as a fighter in response.

After a moment longer the air of the gym was pierced by the sound of a sharp whistle, the same one that hung around Shirou's neck. Saber kicked off in a burst of furious activity, the rope turning to a near-solid sphere of blue light as it whirled through the air. After no more than a few seconds, the whistle cracked again, causing her to halt her momentum to a dead stop, with just a second to draw air into her lungs. The whistle started her up again. This time it was much longer before Shirou's whistle signaled a rest period of a few seconds. Rope drills like this one taught the body to be able to transform from a dead stop into furious motion as quickly as possible while maintaining fluidity and agility in a boxer's hands, as well as trained one to learn to make the most of tiny breaks in action. A boxer who couldn't spot and immediately take advantage of a second or two's breathing time wouldn't last the length of a long fight.

Three sharp blows of the whistle signaled the end of that part of training. By now the faded glimmer of the stars had been replaced by the soft rays of the sun. Some of the more dedicated fighters would actually be showing up soon. It was their normal routine. Shirou staggered the workout regimen each day to focus on certain muscle groups, giving others a chance to heal and build themselves, but there was a certain structure and form that he always followed.

Everything was going smoothly until later in the evening when Saber hit a rare moment of indecisiveness in the training schedule. It was time for her technical training, but her match with the FA had eliminated the need to work out against Taiga.

"Shirou, were you able to find someone suitable?" Saber said, sipping on a protein shake. Not even Shirou could make one of those more than barely palatable. For someone who preferred a structured meal, just blending together different ingredients seemed somewhat heretical.

"Hmm…I found someone who says he uses Writer's _Monstrous _style, but he is pretty sketchy, his reviews are mixed at best and I am pretty sure he wrote the positive ones himself. His prices are pretty high too; we could only afford a day, maybe two if we are able to haggle him down…" Shirou was frowning.

Each new match carried a specific problem for a manager to overcome, before fighting the Free Agent, he did not know whom he would fight in the second round until it had started. In other words, he only learned he would need to prepare Saber for the fight with Writer when it was already time to start preparing. Since he spent north of fourteen hours a day purely on managing Saber, training, prepping, as well as cooking and coming up with new schedules, he had to find time during the rest of the day for the proper role of a manager. This included watching videos of an opponent's matches and looking for weaknesses or tells, gathering information on the opponent, and signing a technical trainer.

That was all time a manager could not spend on useless things like his own sleep or health. The King of Boxers tournament was by design a grueling process that stretched not just a fighter, but also his or her manager to the absolute breaking point. Well-managed boxers entered fights prepped and ready, in good condition and with the knowledge and tools they needed to secure victory. Poorly managed ones went in blind or in poor conditioning, their luck inevitably wearing out quickly, serving no purpose other than to wet fans' appetites and provide additional revenue to the Treasury by way of entry fees.

Saber knew more well-funded gyms were able to compensate partially for this with multiple managers, one person working as trainer and cut man, another handling nutrition and paperwork, another to work as a scout to handle arrangements on the enemy boxer. Shirou obviously couldn't do such a thing, so he simply shouldered every burden onto himself and soldiered on without a word of complaint. It's easy to uphold an ideal when there is no sacrifice required, but it's when you begin to suffer that you find out what it's really worth to you.

"A day or two only?" Saber said, understanding the situation, but feeling frustrated. It wouldn't be as bad as the situation against the Free Agent, but it was not ideal.

Shirou's only response was a scowl…which was quickly interrupted by the sound of the double doors in the gym slamming open, propelled by two outstretched hands.

Certain people in this world exhibit a kind of gravity, a force of personality demonstrated by the halt of conversation, the catching of one's breath, and the swiveling of dozens of heads in the same direction. Fujimura Taiga was such a person.

…But this one's name was Tohsaka Rin. The dark-haired girl strolled into the gym wearing her traditional red and black clothes marked with the glittering insignia of the Sparkling Gem Gym. Her confident footsteps signaled that she owned the place (though Shirou would have to miss another payment for that to be accurate) but her face held a strangely curious look to it.

Saber and Shirou shared a glance, wondering if somehow the other had known to expect the powerful manager's arrival. Shirou caught the way she ran a practiced eye over his fighters and equipment, wondering how much she had gleaned about his gym with a simple glance, and also whether he really wanted to know after all.

"Oh, if it isn't Emiya-kun, and Saber too!" Rin said, incongruously, as if they had happened to walk into each other on the way to the store.

That prompted another confused look between the manager and his fighter, but pure courtesy compelled Shirou to say something, though when he opened his mouth he still wasn't quite sure what would come out.

"A-Afternoon…Tohsaka. Welcome to the Emiya Gym," he said blankly.

"Rin," Saber's slightly breathless voice came next. "How fares the Guardian?"

"Hnnng," Rin knuckled an eye, looking askance at Saber for a moment. It wasn't an unreasonable question, yet Rin didn't seem happy that Saber had asked it for some reason.

"Eh, he wouldn't die even if you killed him. He is already up and being critical like always. I see a lot of physical therapy in the future, and he is going to be carping at me the whole time…" Rin heaved a long-suffering sigh.

Neither Shirou nor Saber thought it wise to ask why someone with the resources she commanded took it as a given that she would need to oversee the Guardian's therapy personally if it was such a burden.

"I am glad the Guardian will recover…" Shirou said, then caught himself, "B-but, is there something you need?"

"Huh? Oh, right!" Rin said, looking oddly startled. "U-um…how's your preparation going? You have the Blood Writer next, right?" Saber found herself a little startled; had Rin just stuttered…? She didn't seem the type to become flustered.

"Yeah." Shirou said simply. It was public knowledge, and besides, Rin was already out of the tournament.

"Though, finding a style trainer…well, I do have someone but…" Shirou trailed off.

"Red hair? Broad-shouldered guy?" Rin said, recovering her balance, even looking a bit smug.

Shirou looked startled.

"Ooooh… you don't want him, he doesn't even know the _Monstrous_ style, and he isn't very conditioned." Rin said, a knowing smile showing up behind her hand that came up over her mouth. It was clear she was enjoying this part.

"If you are going to waste your money on someone who can't teach Saber anything, you are better off paying me rent!" Rin stated, staring directly into Shirou's eyes.

Shirou did not respond. Saber thought it must have been annoying for him since he too had expressed reservations about the quality of the man he was thinking about hiring.

"…Why are you telling us this, Rin?" Saber said, after a moment when it became clear Shirou was too flustered to respond.

"Umm…" Rin's smile faded, she actually looked a bit nervous, and one of her hands came up to finger the bottom of one of her elaborate twintails. "I actually…know someone."

Shirou and Saber both looked intent at that. That was interesting news indeed!

"An old friend of mine used to be a boxer, but later went into style training. She knows Blood Writer's style pretty well. If I put in a good word, I am sure she will take Saber on for a good price." Rin finished, looking anxiously back and forth between Saber and Shirou.

Saber realized she couldn't say anything here. This was Shirou's job. Of course, what Rin was offering seemed almost too good to be true, but on the other hand…

"Please do!" Shirou said, bowing his head. "If she will come, then we would be happy to have her!" Shirou said, without lifting his face.

That had to hurt, Saber knew. To lower his head in front of another manager must have deeply wounded Shirou's pride. All the same…Saber supposed she knew that he would. His loyalties, and his priorities, were clear. A hint of warmth at the thought tempered her annoyance on Shirou's behalf.

Rin cocked an eyebrow at the both of them for a moment, and then sighed, perhaps in aggravation, or maybe in relief. She removed a surprisingly cute phone in a pink case from a pocket and turned halfway around to make the call.

"Ah, hello, Mi…" Rin started, through the phone line, but Shirou and Saber could vaguely make out a confident-sounding girl speaking on the other end.

"Yes, this is Tohsaka— no, not yet, why do you always ask! …No, he is just my fighter, listen to me!"

Rin grew increasingly flustered at what seemed like a barrage of questions fired over the cell.

"Listen, I am calling in a favor, can you come down to the Emiya gym today?" Rin tried to get control of the conversation. Saber wondered if, unlike her own manager, maybe the girl was someone Rin was weak to.

"…Yes, that's the one, Saber. Yeah I was surprised too! Especially at this gym! I mean, I know it was hard getting work but…umm!" Rin flushed a little and glanced back at Shirou and Saber; Saber noted that even Shirou seemed to be giving her an uncharacteristically hard look usually reserved for when he felt like she was not on form.

"Look I can't talk right now, but can you come over here? Eh? Yeah, I am here too…No it's not like that either, just come already!" Rin thumbed the end call button considerably harder than was needed, cutting off the sound of laughter coming clearly through the line.

Rin put one hand to her forehead, looking momentarily unwilling to face the pair. "Why is she so difficult…"

Shirou was having a lot of trouble dealing with Tohsaka. Managers interacted occasionally, but it was always in the professional, cordial yet guarded manner, setting up matches, sizing up the competition, and dealing with media in the case of more well-known ones was also a requirement.

Actually, Shirou had an image of a good manager being a person like his father. Concise, controlled, devoting all his energy to his fighter to the exclusion of all else, but Tohsaka was quickly tearing down such beliefs. Of course, he knew full well her abilities. The Sparkling Gem had a stable of prize fighters who truly deserved the name, among which the Guardian stood supreme. She not only was a favorite in the King of Boxers tournament, but had competed well in international contests too. Her record spoke for itself. On the other hand, she was so…nosy.

As if sensing his thoughts, Rin looked up from glaring at her phone and met Shirou and Saber's eyes with a scowl.

"I just got you a trainer, so, shouldn't you be getting ready to greet her? I can only get her past the door; you will have to be the ones to get her to train you!" Rin exploded.

Shirou's danger-instincts weren't nearly as developed as Saber's, but he still felt that maybe this was a "discretion and valor" sort of moment.

"She is right," he said looking at Saber, "get changed and hit the showers, I'll take care of the fee." Saber nodded and walked off, picking up and slinging her training bag, which was lying beside the training ring, over her shoulder as she went.

Shirou turned back to Rin not quite sure of what to say, just in time to see her curiously open Saber's fridge where her water was.

"Erm, Tohsaka, are you thirsty?" Shirou said, belatedly, feeling he should at least be a good host.

"No, not really," was her reply. Somehow taking that as the end of the conversation, she pulled off the lid and took a few swallows, swishing her cheeks around a bit.

"…Not bad," Rin noted a bit grudgingly. "You have some talent after all."

Shirou just stared at her for a moment before muttering a thank-you. Tohsaka Rin just moved at her own speed and pulled everyone else along.

"U-um, Tohsaka…" Shirou began, casting about for a topic. "A-ah, that's right, could you tell me more about this trainer? I mean, I hadn't even heard there was someone like that, and I had looked for a while."

Come to think of it, that was strange; how did Rin just randomly know someone who could do the job when he had spent all night looking. Wasn't that suspicious? He tried to keep his thoughts out of his expression, but after a moment of staring, Rin grinned evilly, as it seemed to Shirou.

"Huuuh….are you worried? Maybe I was paid off by an enemy, is that what you think? My my, Emiya-kun, could it be that you are really cynical after all?" Rin leaned against the pole of the fighting ring while hiding a grin.

"Just…why are you helping me?" Shirou could only ask the question.

"…"

It was an obvious question, but it seemed to catch Rin off-guard. For some reason, Rin seemed weak to honesty. She looked away in dissatisfaction for a moment, and then looked somewhere in the vicinity of Shirou's forehead, not meeting his eyes..

"I am just protecting an investment" Rin said, glancing away after a moment.

Shirou didn't believe her. A gym barely making its payments didn't warrant personal intervention by the head of Sparking Gem herself, let alone several, and calling in favors on top of that.

Shirou's doubt must have shown up on his face.

"Look, you don't understand!" Rin said, sounding like she was making an excuse to herself. "If your gym goes under, the Treasury will buy it and bulldoze it and I can't beat their offer, they keep raising rates and driving people out of business! All my gyms are being bought up and wrecked, the new places can't get accreditation, and I keep losing money, and now they knocked out the Guardian and I want to _hurt_ them!"

Rin leaned forward and grabbed onto Shirou's collar, and for a second the grip of her fingers made Shirou feel like he was about to be throttled.

"And then you come along and you hired Saber, why didn't I do that! I thought about it…but her reputation was in shambles and by the time she surfaced it had been a while and I wasn't sure she would be in good condition…" Rin's voice was growing softer, more reflective, if still angry.

"Some people I was doing business with still hated her and I _needed_ those contracts, it seemed like such a big gamble…but then _you_ show up and she is better than ever! She beats one of the best fighters I have ever seen and she does it completely blind! I can't let them win another tournament…not after what they did, so…"

Shirou remembered Rin's look after the Guardian had been savaged. He was starting to put the pieces together. Rin wanted revenge, but didn't have a way to fight without the Guardian. He had been one of the top-ranked fighters in the tournament and the Golden Boy had destroyed him. There were only a few fighters left with that kind of ranking. One was the Hound Dog, but he was another fighter for the Treasury. Another was Fred Ken Heracles, who had rankings almost equal to the Golden Boy, but the foreign group which had sponsored him was a complete mystery, and even if Rin's resources could ferret out his gym's manager, it was unlikely he or she would need or even want Rin's mucking about. So if she wanted to get a piece of the action, she would have to stir the pot a little.

Thinking about it, if one considered the number of people with a stable that included a fighter of the caliber needed, yet with a manager lacking enough for Rin to make use of to soothe her injured feelings, the number was very small. In fact, it was probably boiled down to just one.

…Shirou's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his gym door banging open.

"Tohsaka, I made good tim—?" The girl who walked in was a confident brown-haired girl with a duffel bag of gear over her shoulder. The girl looked around the gym as she spoke, before catching sight of the two over by the training ring. What caught her off-guard was probably…

Rin held Shirou's collar, he was pulled a bit towards her, and Rin was leaning forward herself. Anger had brought a slight flush to Rin's cheeks, and she was breathing rapidly. To the girl, it might have looked like…

"Emiya-kun…?" Rin said under her breath, as the other girl stared with a grin slowly playing across her face.

"Hmm?" Shirou replied in the same manner.

"She will never let this go, and it is your fault." Rin finished warning him with a flat stare. She then let go of his collar, and forced a calm expression onto her face.

"So…Tohsaka," the girl said walking up, clearly fighting a grin. "Are you going to introduce me to your…? She left the question open.

"Emiya Shirou." Rin introduced him in a flat tone. "He owes me money, but has a good fighter and is up against Writer. I was thinking you might—"

"I would love to!" the girl said, without letting Rin finish. "My name is Mitsuzuri Ayako, pleased to meet you! I checked my phone on the way over here; you are looking for a specialist, right? I'll give you a good rate. I still owe Writer one anyway." A shadow seemed to flash across the girl's otherwise bright face. Shirou didn't really know the details of the match, even managers couldn't recall every single match, but judging from the fact that Writer's mere name was enough to swing a discount and a glare, it must have been a bad one.

"I'll tell you right now though, I can help you get ready, but there is one thing I can't prepare Saber for."

"What's that?" The question came from behind Shirou; as if drawn by her name his fighter walked up to them, wiping her unbound hair with a hand towel before beginning to redo it in her usual bun.

Shirou occasionally forgot just how long Saber's hair was.

This is gonna sound weird…" Mitsuzuri said with a dark look. "Fighting Writer…well, style wise I can get pretty close to her level, but I don't have her…aura."

"Her what?" Shirou said blankly, but Saber's eyes narrowed.

"Blood Writer loves to hurt. It may sound like sadism, but it isn't; she loves pain. I have never felt anything like it. When you box her, you can see that she wants to hurt you and she wants you to hurt her too. It's scary. I know it sounds weird, but I have seen boxers absolutely freeze in place before she knocked them out."

Shirou nodded, while Rin and Saber looked at him in surprise.

"I watched some of her fights last night, against some pretty good fighters. It actually did seem like they were all just a bit off their game. I didn't know why," he explained.

"Yeah, right." Mitsuzuri nodded, relieved Shirou knew what she was talking about. "You must be a good manager! That makes it easier then." Ayako finished, causing a grimace from Rin.

"Well, I think Saber will be ok, but it's better if she is prepared for it, so I thought I should warn her. That's what you are paying me for right? Speaking of which… "

At that, Shirou and Ayako quickly haggled over her fee. For once, Shirou got the better of the deal, it was clear Ayako's heart wasn't really in the negotiation. She must have really had it in for the Blood Writer. Once they were finished Ayako borrowed Shirou's changing room and came out wearing a dark brown vest with a pair of black shorts.

Rin looked annoyed, she probably wanted to stay and watch the training, but…

"All right, I have to go back," The dark haired girl admitted. "I had some free time today because I set aside time for the tournament," Rin tried not to show that her removal was still bothering her, "but I still have a company to run."

"Tohsaka!" Shirou called out from Saber's corner.

She stopped and looked back.

"Just wanted to say…thanks. I owe you one" He said, bowing his head.

"Shirou is right, we are grateful." Saber said, softly but clearly.

Rin nodded, but didn't say anything. After a moment, her hair flipped around her as she spun around and walked out the door.

After a quick fist bump, one of the gym's members tapped the bell, and the first training match started.

Saber rocketed to the center of the ring, the thrill of the fight urging her on; her opponent did likewise, a welcome difference from her strange match with the Free Agent. When they met, her opponent settled her heels and planted her feet. Saber didn't let the distraction shake her concentration, but it was still a bit unexpected. That was the stance of a power fighter; women tended to prefer lithe movements that used their bodies' natural flexibility as a weapon. Saber fired a few light jabs at her opponent from just outside range, testing, probing strikes. Her opponent responded with quick tight movements that deflected by the most minimal distance required, then returned her fists to her chest. Tight body, held forward, chin down…

She was an infighter. A _dangerous_ infighter. Ayako feinted to the left and then advanced, but Saber saw the shift coming.

There was a moment like a dance between them. Ayako advanced two steps forward, Saber feinted high then shifted her body low, whirling like a pendulum to add force to a technically precise straight into Ayako's stomach. Ayako pressed forward again, Saber sent another punch in, which Ayako deflected to the left, and then stepped back. She wasn't used to being the ranged fighter, but _Promised Victory_ was a high-performance footwork style that chose a balanced approach which could exploit an enemy's weakness.

Saber was a boxer who proudly danced to her opponent's tune, as long as she could take the lead.

Ayako feinted left and then actually stepped left, trying to work Saber into the corner. Saber saw an opportunity to jump right…but chose not to take it. In training, she also wanted to see what _Monstrous _could do at its preferred range.

Ayako's response was quick and brutal. As soon as Saber stepped into range, Ayako's heels planted firmly, her demeanor like that of a man setting himself for a hard day's work. Her first straight slammed hard into Saber's upraised glove, forcing Saber to take a backstep she really wasn't prepared for. Ayako was adding a lot of force to her punches and kept power in her arms even when the block was showing, instead of reloading. Saber responded by catching the arm wrist to wrist and swinging it aside, opening Ayako up for the counter cross. Saber let one of her heels plant for just a second, force coursing its way up her leg and out her arm in a lightning bolt strike she would only risk on an off-balance opponent.

It was like hitting a damned rock.

Ayako met Saber's force on one hand and absolutely stopped it cold. Ayako's body didn't even shift backwards, and her return jab-hook combination targeting Saber first on the sternum and then working its way to Saber's chin both landed square, taking advantage of her surprise. Saber bobbed her head at the last second, getting a little of the force of Ayako's strike deflected and recollected herself behind a backstep which Ayako smoothly followed along with, matching Saber's movement.

Ayako aimed a hook that had a lot of power behind it but was a hair off-target, more set for the back of Saber's head than squarely on her chin. Saber instepped so that her and Ayako's bodies were nearly in contact, and responded with a right uppercut that was so tight her fist was placed firmly in contact with her own chest for most of the punch. There wasn't enough force to do real damage but it was enough to force Ayako on the back step. Saber's off-fist, planted firmly at her own side stopped Ayako's retaliating body blow as Ayako re-chambered.

They circled each other warily for a moment, and Saber struck first. She opened with a picture-perfect three-count jab set, two for the head and then one under the guard for the body, and Ayako caught them all with her usual unwavering power, each of them sliding weakly off a strong guard. Saber's last punch was so by-the-book it actually cost her, as Ayako read the blow before it was thrown and, after blocking, thrust out her left fist and punched Saber's returning arm low, forcing her balance forward and her shoulders down.

A beautiful set up for a power fighter; Saber could almost hear Shirou's worried intake of breath. Saber's vision was low, but she could see from the swivel of Ayako's hips the tight hook she was chambering, a knockout blow.

It missed.

Or it should be said, it was dodged. With a head bob movement reminiscent of a mongoose daring a cobra to strike, Saber shifted her weight low, her left knee crouching to almost touch the mat, and threw herself over the punch to launch a strong right hook at Ayako's undefended side. A relic of her training with Taiga, the simulated opening that converted from feint into a power punch was deadly if performed right. The hook buried itself into Ayako's floating rib cage, drawing a grunt of startled pain and actually staggering the previously unbreakable wall that had been her opponent. Saber instepped and prepared a straight to continue when…

With a sharp note, the ring bell sounded, indicating the end of practice. Saber caught herself, and there was a moment of silence when she and Ayako stared at each other, she with her fist halfway towards Ayako's face, Ayako with an off-balance guard halfway up to block, an open question as to which would have arisen first hanging over them…

…Before the air whooshed out of them both in a shared moment of recuperation. For a moment they simply breathed together, letting oxygen-starved lungs cool and refill themselves. Ayako offered a glove, which Saber bumped.

"You know…I had heard of the great Saber but…" Ayako sighed to herself in admiration.

"I am not even sure you need me!" Just then Shirou climbed into the ring, holding a pair of towels and bottles of water he had fetched for them both.

Ayako and Saber leaned against the ropes for a moment, trying to wipe the worst of it off them. Ayako took the simpler approach and, after taking a swig, dumped the rest down her head and then wiped off the water.

Boxers did that a lot, and privately, Shirou hated it. Who did they think ended up cleaning that?

"I think you know this already," Ayako said, "but Writer's style is best on the instep inside. You would do well to stay on the outside."

Saber nodded briskly, not interrupting.

"Now, something you should remember is that though I am imitating the style, one difference is that while I am stopping punches by being as resolute as I can, Writer won't." Ayako went on, "I swear she sometimes lets punches through just because she loves it. It's great for running up the score card, but knocking her out is difficult. You should concentrate on winning by points and staying loose. You don't need to press her, she will give you opportunities."

At that, Saber flicked an eye over to Shirou. Strategies like that were within the purview of a manager, so it was natural she would want to get his take. He nodded slowly. He remembered when checking out Writer's rankings that she had a large number of losses in the points but a lot of wins by knockout. Ayako's words made sense. Besides, this _was_ what they were paying for, after all.

"Saber and I are going to go over the match a bit more over dinner," Shirou mentioned. "Would you like to stay and listen? We could use the input," he offered to the trainer.

"Hey, sounds great," Ayako agreed easily, "fighting like this works up an appetite. Hope you serve large portions, Saber looks like she eats like a bird, but I can really tuck in after a fight!"

…

There was a moment of silence.

...

Ayako's confident grin faded after a moment, as she watched Saber and Shirou exchange a long look together.

Ayako had the sudden feeling she had just signed up for a fight she wasn't ready for.

Later, in the living room, Ayako and Saber relaxed over a cup of tea while Shirou busied himself in the kitchen. After her win, Shirou had kept his promise and restocked the food supplies, so dinner promised to be pleasant.

"You know Saber," Ayako said after a moment, causing Saber to put her cup down onto its small plate.

"I caught your match on pay-per-view. I had heard of you before but it was the first time I ever actually saw you in a match. Don't tell you manager this - cause I am sure he is congratulating himself on a good negotiation - but I would've done it for free!" Ayako couldn't help but start laughing out loud. Saber too couldn't suppress a smile at the girl's infectious mirth, even if what she had said was quite surprising.

"The second I saw you I wanted a match or two with you, and to pay back Writer, hell, I should be paying you!" Ayako finished gaily.

"I...thought you were retired," Saber offered, a question in her voice.

"Yeah, I am, but that doesn't mean I don't still get that _itch_, you know? You see someone great and you just want to get in the ring with 'em, just give one good punch if nothing else."

Saber felt a pull from inside her just hearing those words; she knew that feeling. "It is a great moment," Saber agreed with a wolfish grin, "that first good punch where they fall back, the second is even better, the third, better still!" Saber said, her voice growing energized.

"Right, right? And then you get that one second, that perfect moment, maybe they miss a block, maybe you got a good sidestep they didn't catch, maybe you got that perfect parry and the sound of their punch is ringing in your ear and then BAM! You feel so _alive_." Ayako finished Saber's sentence for her.

"...Ayako, if you feel so passionately, then...?" Saber did not wish to be rude or pry, but it seemed a shame that Ayako, feeling as she clearly did, had stopped fighting.

Ayako's face clouded over, some of the fire going out of her. "Hit a wall," Ayako answered, offering a bitter grin, "I spent a lot of time in serious training after Writer...even learned her style, did everything I could, but after a while, I hit a point where I just couldn't seem to improve. I was too good for regional, not good enough for the big leagues, and I didn't want to just be a part-time fighter. That's why I started doing technical, it's not the same, but hey, at least I get to get back in the ring, right?"

Saber felt the words hit home in a strange fashion. That desire to get back in no matter what, there was a resonance there that made Saber feel an odd bond. Didn't she, more than anyone else, understand the lengths one might go to, to keep fighting when everyone said you couldn't?

"Who is hungry?" A lively voice cut through the cloud that had begun to form over the two girls.

Emiya Shirou walked up with his arms nearly overflowing with a large tray, smelling faintly of vinegared rice. The reason soon became clear as he set it down: on the first tray, in addition to some lettuce-wrapped chicken, there were several platters of homemade sushi rolls. Mostly cheap stuff, California yellowtail, but Saber's eyes lit up...as did Ayako's. Homemade sushi was always good if it was done right. Shirou brought out several more platters and finished with cutting up three oranges into slices at the table and placing them on each person's tray as a simultaneous garnish and desert.

Ayako dug in at once, outstripping Saber early, who cracked a pair of chopsticks gently and began sedately dishing her plate up.

Shirou rolled his eyes. For a while the sounds of conversation ceased, to be replaced with the scraping of chopsticks on plates and the burble of hot tea being poured.

"...Wow, I can't believe I lost twice today." Ayako said at the end of the meal, scratching her head. "Where the hell does it all go?" The table was filled with empty dishes, but there was a much larger pile on Saber's side than on Ayako's.

"It's the best way to keep up energy." Saber replied calmly, not really answering. Ayako glanced at Shirou.

Shirou shrugged. "That's what she tells me," he responded to the unspoken question. "I was worried at first, but Saber always trains well after a good meal, even if it's dinner." Shirou began gathering the dishes up for washing, both Saber and Ayako offering to assist, but as usual, he refused the offer and went off to the kitchen.

Over the sound of hot water running, Shirou listened to the pair's voices drifting through to the kitchen. He could make out certain boxing terms like parry and jab, but doubted they were doing extra training; they sounded almost like a pair of schoolgirls gossiping. It was a surreal feeling, hearing his dedicated fighter sound like that.

It came to him that perhaps it had been a long time since Saber had had a friend. He was her manager, that was a bond that was in some ways closer than friendship - almost family - but there were certain lines in that relationship too. They were not equals; he needed her to acknowledge him, her body and her spirit needed to reflexively listen to him even when her mind wanted to lie down and rest.

Of course, Saber had fans and well-wishers, people to cheer for her, but how long had it been since she just had a girl of her own age she could talk to? Taiga had been friendly, but now that Shirou thought about it, she spent more time with him than Saber, so they hadn't really gotten close.

Unfortunately there wasn't much he could do about it. He wasn't even sure he would if he could. Saber was his boxer, the two of them were in a very precarious situation, and he needed her focus to be on the ring one hundred percent. So with that in mind, he had to put his worries out of head and get ready for tomorrow's training. This wasn't something a manager should be involved in, not one bit.

...He still took extra time washing the dishes.

"Will you be here tomorrow then?" Saber asked Ayako, her and Shirou walking the brown-haired girl to the door.

"Yup, same time," Ayako assured them with a smile, "gotta get you ready for Writer; besides, you _are_ paying me."

The two girls shook hands and Ayako looked ready to depart, when a sudden crease went over her forehead, and there was a momentary flicker behind the bright girl's eyes. No, more than a flicker, she showed a sudden, intense shudder of fear.

"Oh, but before I go, let me give you a warning."

Shirou and Saber couldn't help but straighten up a bit. It was clear this was something very serious to the young girl.

"Do not, under any circumstances, let Writer bait you into a bare knuckle fight. She does that sometimes, and it's…it's…different. It's bad. She is a nightmare. Stay in the official ring. That's where Saber should have the advantage."

For a moment, the pair didn't respond. Why would they be street fighting to begin with anyway?

"Well, anyway, I bet you will be fine, between the two of you I am sure you can handle the Wormen and Children gym. Good luck!" Ayako slung her bag over her shoulder and strode off without a look back. Shirou could only manage a muttered "Bye then…" in return. Somehow, what Ayako said stuck with him… Somehow…it seemed a bad omen.


	5. Chapter 5

Writer's fist crashed into her opponent's jaw in a brutal uppercut; Shirou and Saber could clearly see the way the poor boxer's feet lifted off the ground before the ten count. As always, Writer's form combined grace, precision, with absolutely merciless and punishing blows.

Mitsuzuri had skipped dinner again, which meant the meal had finished quickly with just Shirou and Saber. After they finished, Shirou and Saber had clustered around Taiga's laptop to watch a few of Writer's fights, to look for any tells or weaknesses. The fight was the day after tomorrow, and this was one of their last chances to go over what they had learned.

"She is ambidextrous like you, might even lean to her left," Shirou noted, rewinding the tape and pointing to Writer's clever right hand parry that had set up the knock-out blow. "Keep an eye out for…"

Shirou's statement was cut off by the sound of the telephone ringing. He sighed in annoyance, but still rose to pick it up. Ever since Saber's first match there had been some increased media attention. Usually as a manager he would be happy about this and cultivate relations, but right now they had a tournament to win. He almost would have ignored it, but his stable had also begun to increase in size. No real fighters of note had appeared, but the extra people working out were good for his bank account.

"Emiya gym." Shirou answered politely.

"Is the Emiya-san?" A business-like man's voice asked.

"Yes, yes it is, may I ask who is calling?" Shirou said in return.

"I represent the tournament committee, Congratulations on winning your qualifier match and entering the tournament." The man had the dull sing-song tone of one repeating something he has said many times before. "Your fighter, Saber, has been selected for a random drug screening. Please bring her immediately to the complex. Failure to arrive promptly may result in…"

The man droned on in a warning spiel that Shirou mostly ignored. Putting a hand over the phone receiver, he waved Saber to put on her windbreaker jacket. The morning's air, while brisk, was not overly cold, but Shirou insisted on warm clothes when they went out at night or early in the morning. A poorly timed cold could end things for them. It wouldn't be the first time a promising contender had been wiped out by an untimely case of the snuffles. This tournament was extraordinarily physically demanding; hell, that's what managers were for.

Shirou copied down the man's instructions and assured him he would arrive in under an hour. Normally fighters were screened on the day of the match, but it's not like they had a choice. Random screenings ensured match fairness, little things like this were just part of the game.

"Is there a problem with the match?" Saber asked him after he hung up, looking a bit worried.

Shirou was a bit pleased at the note of concern. Saber, as always, was eager for the battle.

"Nah, just a quick screening. Morning training is cancelled I'm afraid, we will have to make up tomorrow." Shirou replied, taking care to push the irritation out of his voice.

Saber nodded, calmness returning to her features; she knew how all this worked. Hell, as a world-class contender, she had probably dealt with this kind of thing more than he had.

If it wasn't for the time limit, Shirou might have thought about biking up there while Saber jogged. A morning run could be refreshing and was actually part of Saber's routine, plus as a manager he believed little ways to break up the usual training regimen, like the change in destination, helped Saber stay focused.

_Oh well, rules are rules, too bad. _Shirou thought to himself.

So they caught a cab. Little luxuries like cab fares instead of train rides were still really something Shirou didn't like splurging on, but they were at least possible after Saber's win these days. The cabbie, a short, foreign, red-haired girl was a boxing fan, as displayed by the lipstick-smeared photo of the Golden Boy set under her cabbie license. She chattered excitedly about having Saber in the car and made good time to the arena.

It might seem surprising that the same building was used for both matches and medical screenings, but if one thought about it, it made sense. While not to the level of a proper hospital, they had enough medical staff and facilities on hand to stabilize a badly injured fighter long enough for transport, as had happened with the Guardian, and they could also conduct on-site screenings before or even during a match if there was a doping question.

"Will you be accompanying me?" Saber asked, surprising Shirou for a moment as they made their way through the complex. Shirou occasionally forgot that even if Saber was familiar with this kind of situation, she still didn't know everything about this particular tournament.

"Not this time, in planned screenings like the ones we took before the rules aren't as strict, but random screenings are a bit different, they don't even let us enter the room. I'll be right outside the door though."

Saber nodded in reply, and Shirou took the lead as they moved through the sprawling complex. The byways managers used cut down on some time, but the trek to the walled-off medical area took a little while to navigate through the arena. As one might expect, the medical staff was positioned so as to be easiest to access from the rings themselves.

When they arrived, Shirou was allowed a stool next to the checkup room they lead Saber into. It was a tiny luxury allowed to a manager. He started filling out some paperwork which basically amounted to permitting tests to be ran and billing the fee to the Treasury. Things like that were part of his entry fee. It had been exorbitant and he still owed Raiga, but at least as far as it went it was fairly comprehensive for his basic needs as a manager.

Shirou felt the world blur around him for a moment. When things cleared, he had dropped the hardbacked board the insurance paperwork was clipped to on the floor, and if his back hadn't been pressed against the wall he doubted he would still be on the little stool.

_I am so tired…_

Shirou absolutely couldn't show Saber how the long hours were wearing on him, because a boxer responded to his or her manager's energy. He had both responsibility and pride propping him up, but in little moments like this, things caught up with him. He felt his eyes drift close for a moment; he wanted so much to just take a little cat nap.

But there wasn't any time; the test took a bit longer than one might think, since, as opposed to the usual urine test in the random screenings, they also drew blood and took hair samples, but that didn't mean he had time to relax.

_If there is a free moment, it should be used to fill this out…and then I should work out tomorrow's training…  
_  
Shirou forced his tired eyes open through sheer willpower.

…Just in time to see a can of coffee, which at first glance seemed to be hovering in the air in front of a pair of extremely shapely breasts.

…As an afterthought, Shirou found himself thinking if he wasn't exhausted the coffee would certainly not be the most interesting thing in that particular picture. After a moment he focused: an extremely attractive girl with darkly purple hair appeared to be offering him a drink.

"U-um, sorry," Shirou stammered, "I didn't order anything like that."

"It would have been weird if you did, this is a clinic, not a café!" The girl beamed a warming smile. She seemed like one of those people you couldn't help but like. "You just looked like you could use it," the girl finished, pressing the can firmly into his hands. It was still hot from the machine.

It was hot, pure black coffee, without even any cream to sweeten the flavor. Normally Shirou preferred tea, but right now, it seemed like perfection. Deciding not to look the gift horse in the mouth he cracked the can open and downed it in a single long chug. Logically he knew the caffeine wouldn't hit his system for several minutes, but the rejuvenating effect on his mind was immediate. If it was a placebo, it was a damned good one. Or maybe it was the restful aura of the pretty girl who had given it to him.

When he finished, the girl giggled, looking pleased.

"Better?" she said with a hand over her mouth.

"Much, it is a little late, but thanks. You saved me" Shirou admitted gratefully.

Shirou gave the girl another once-over. The girl was wearing a thin shirt cut off at the elbows that was speckled a bit with dust. Not dirty from lack of care, it was just the type that had been worn while doing a lot of cleaning. Shirou knew the look because there were a dozen like it in his closet right now. It was a bit too large for her, possibly a hand-me-down. She was wearing a pair of long, but thin jeans that did nice things for her contours but would be hot to work out in, so she probably wasn't an athletic trainer. She might be a manager though, that meshed with the fact that usually the people in this area were either managers or boxers, but he did not recognize her. Which didn't necessarily mean anything; it wasn't like even he could know everyone in this business.

"I am Emiya Shirou." Shirou introduced himself, "Are you…?"

"No, no, nothing like that, not yet." The girl replied with another cheerful smile, "I am just keeping nee-san company. Her manager is here somewhere, but he left to go chasing girls. I am Matou Sakura, pleased to meet you!"

"Ah…yeah, pleasure is all mine. Um…if you don't mind me asking, what did you mean, "_yet"_?" Shirou had caught a hint of wistfulness in the girl's words that pulled a bit at his heartstrings, something there sounded kind of familiar.

The grin slid off the girl's face. Shirou admitted privately he was sorry to see it go.

"Nee-san and I have wanted to start our own gym for a while now, but it takes a lot of money to start from scratch!"

_Don't I know it_. Shirou thought to himself. A licensed gym cost a fortune to start and another to maintain. That was pretty much his problem too.

"We are both working at a gym right now; the manager wasn't good at negotiating so nee-san is actually getting a pretty decent amount of the winnings. I do some work there too, mostly feeding everyone." The girl finished her introduction.

"You cook for a stable then?" Shirou asked, a smile coming across his wearied features. It was rare for him to talk this easily with someone who had a compatible interest; since most of those people who did were considered enemies.

"Yup!" the girl responded almost triumphantly. "I don't mean to brag, but I am confident in my skill."

Shirou felt a twinge of competitive spirit flare up. He wasn't the only manager who cooked for his fighter instead of leaving it to a third party, but often it was considered just a part of training, not a mark of pride. Shirou felt differently though; managing food encouraged the mind and body, and it seemed this girl agreed. Her sister was probably a lucky boxer. Speaking of which…

"So your sister is in the tournament then, is she anyone I know?" Shirou asked the purple-haired girl innocently.

"Oh… a-ah, n-nobody really - I mean, it's not important!" The girl became immediately flustered, perhaps even frightened. The friendly air that had built around them seemed to dissolve immediately.

"Actually, um," the girl went on before Shirou could interrupt or apologize, "Nee-san is probably finished with her test; I should go find her, see you!"

And before Shirou could respond, the girl pattered away, long purple hair flowing along behind her, hanging momentarily in the air as if reluctant to leave behind the pleasant time they had together.

"Yeah…see you." Shirou mumbled.

He wondered if he had done something wrong. Not every gym had a great reputation, and the girl had implied the manager may have been sub-par. Maybe they had taken whatever work they could get and she was embarrassed about it. In his heart he had to apologize for bringing up a sore subject.

_Oh well_. Shirou mentally shook himself off. Break time, it seemed, was over. With an idle flick of his fingers he crushed the empty coffee can between his fingers and tossed it underhand into a nearby waste bin, and then settled in to finish the paperwork he had started earlier.

Shirou felt a smile creeping across his features. Strangely, he didn't feel tired at all now.

It wasn't long later that Saber came walking up to him. Shirou just had to check over a few remarks from her checkup, mostly things he already knew; a minor iron deficiency result suggested he might want to work in a little extra calcium in her diet, but nothing serious. They were getting ready to head out when all of a sudden, Shirou saw Saber tense up. Before he realized what the problem was, a hand clasped him hard over the shoulder, gripping him tightly as if to prevent his exit.

Shirou turned a wary eye to see who had accosted him, muscles tensing for a fight. A manager being attacked to sabotage a fight was a rarity, but it did happen. On the other hand, doing it inside the arena next to the medical area seemed…unlikely.

The first thing he saw was a flash of blue, atop a handsome face. The young man looked no older than himself, but his visage had a glint of experience to it that Shirou's lacked. These experiences might have been of the kind Shirou would wish to avoid; he had an easy confident grace that told the world he was its superior. Next to him stood…

Now Shirou felt his body tense up in earnest. He _knew_ this woman, how could he not. Other than Saber, she had been the foremost person on his thoughts this week.

She was large, statuesque. She wore a pair of tight-fitting black leather pants which clung to every muscle of her shapely legs, rendering the large belt she wore purely ornamental. It was bound with a skull buckle, partially hidden by the thick leather jacket she wore despite the heat generated by the day and the passerby. On her hands were a pair of black fingerless gloves, which showed off her red-painted nails. Her wrists bore a pair of spiked bracelets which matched the also spiked dog collar encircling her neck. But her face…

Her face bore the touches of what once had been an almost luminescent beauty. That loveliness however was marred, rendered impotent by the crisscrossing white scars which covered the entirety of her face. Linking them together, almost seeming like the origin points of the scars, were multiple piercings. Each eyebrow held a mismatched set of iron, enough to almost pull the eye down. A single large loop of metal plugged her nose, less a simple piercing and more like a cattle ring. The edge of that loop touched onto a lip ring which itself accentuated black lipstick. More decorations rested under her ears, which each bore a long chain hanging loosely, attached at two spots on the edge of her ear to the bottom of the lobe. A tattoo of snakes ran up her neck and merged with her long hair.

The hair almost defied description. At the roots were shades of purple which caused Shirou to shiver with a half-remembered memory, but the color had been dyed, or perhaps even spray-painted, a garish mix of green which transitioned to blue, and then an almost vibrant red as it reached the base of her back.

Now Shirou had real reason to prepare himself: his next opponent in the King of Boxers tournament, Blood Writer, and the man who was surely her manager. His name was…

"Shinji. Just Shinji, no need to be formal, we are all friends here, _riiiiight_?" The man said with an arrogant tilt to his face, as if grasping the direction of Shirou's thoughts. "No need to be so tense…" Shinji's voice had an odd wheedling tone to it. Strangely it sounded almost like the tone of a boy in mid-seduction.

Shinji's hand left Shirou's shoulder and almost idly wiped off some imagined spot of dust on Shirou's collar.

"You are Emiya Shirou, and this lovely lady must be the great Saber. She is a real beauty." Shinji's eyes held a lascivious, almost malicious gleam to them. Shirou thought it looked like a man who could, and did, immediately grasp what a woman looked like naked even if she was wearing something like her windbreaker.

"And you probably know my Writer?" Shinji said laconically. He had not in any way missed Shirou's reaction to the approach of his dangerous warrior. For her part, the punker gave Shirou a look that at once analyzed him and dismissed him from consideration. Then she turned her eyes on Saber. They offered each other no greeting. Boxer and boxer simply regarded each other. They each bore a pair of half smiles that were both different, and eerily similar. One mouth bore lipstick, metal, scars, and one was accentuated by nothing but pure white skin. But the intent…the intent was exactly the same. They were both humorless, cold, threatening, speaking eloquently of promised pain. For a moment, the air wavered with an almost electric energy. Shirou had believed nobody could truly match his Saber's lust for battle, but now he saw he had been foolish. The aura of the Blood Writer didn't just equal Saber's battle lust, it surpassed it, beat it down. Shirou could actually see the rippling of his fighter's jaw as she reacted to Writer's pure and unfiltered lust for blood.

"Now now!" the distraction came from a surprising place. In the moment of danger, Shinji had almost faded into the background. "Save that energy for tonight!"

"…Tonight?" Shirou asked guardedly in response to the other manager's knowing grin. "Our fight is not scheduled for tonight." Shirou looked puzzled, feeling a trap springing.

"_Weeeellll_…" Shinji began, playing for dramatic effect, the wheedling tone sounding stronger than ever in his voice. "That's actually what I came to talk to you about. What do you say to a little exhibition match tonight? No rules, just these two fighting it out for love of the sport!"

"Would that be a bare-handed fight?" Saber's voice cut into Shinji's sales pitch, earning her a scowl from the blue haired manager.

"Um..." Shinji stared, nonplussed.

"You have been talking to Ayako!" A vibrant, throaty voice cut in, the sultry sound of it marred somewhat by a slight lisp. It took Shirou a moment to connect the throbbing notes with the tall boxer standing next to Shinji. Her earlier vicious feeling had been temporarily nullified; her expression actually held an almost loving grin at the moment.

"How is she? I worry she doesn't take care of herself. How did she…look when you saw her?" Rider's tongue rubbed across her lip, showing off a tongue piercing which accounted for Writer's speaking difficulty.

The dichotomy of how Writer seemed to regard Ayako and how Ayako felt about the Blood Writer was not lost on Shirou and Saber, who exchanged a large, puzzled look, unsure of how to, or even if they should, answer her question.

"Ok, well!" Writer said, still looking mischievous. "If you have been talking to…no, I bet you were training with her…well, there is only one thing to do. Excuse me; I am going to the bathroom!"

"You…what?" Shinji said, sounding aggrieved that he had utterly lost the flow of the conversation, but Writer was already striding purposefully away, her long legs able to carry her at an almost running rate as she pushed her way through the crowd.

"It's not even that way…." Shinji trailed off. Writer was gone. "Useless woman…" He sighed to himself, before jerking and looking back at Shirou and Saber, who it seemed he had forgotten were there.

"Look, Emiya-kun," Shinji addressed Shirou, clearly trying to regain his balance. "I hear the Emiya gym is on hard times, and this isn't a freebie we are talking about here!"

Shirou twitched, annoyed. _Was there anyone who didn't know about my failure to run my stable at this point?_ Shirou thought to himself, aggrieved.

"Now I have the venue all picked out, here." Shinji shoved a note with an address and a faded photo printed onto it in his hand. The arena in question did not look very clean. "I've already booked it, me alone, you don't need to do or pay anything, just show up. A couple of lovely ladies going at it, getting down in dirty, in this fight-loving town? Say the word; I can have packed stands in one hour, cash only. In two hours I can set up a web pay-per-view, that's a looooootta money. Winner takes all, sounds good, right?"

Shinji's eyes were burning bright. An unsanctioned match between two official boxers was not specifically against the rules, but it might as well have been. What manager would put his fighter into a dangerous fight in the middle of the King of Boxers tournament?!

Shinji appeared to have eyes only for the money. He was right in that sense, a match like that would sell out in hours, if not minutes, after the tickets would go up. Since the treasury wouldn't be involved, the proceeds would be astronomical.

Still though…

"No." Shirou said it plainly, without hesitation or regret. Beside him, he felt more than he saw Saber droop slightly as the air whooshed out of her. She longed to fight, whoever, however. She wanted to get in the ring with Writer, but still, her discipline showing through, she didn't argue, but merely accepted it, even if it frustrated her.

"But…" Shinji started.

"No." Shirou repeated, cutting Shinji off. "Yes, my gym does need money, and your fight would go a long way. Yes, I could use it, but so what? We got a match coming up; all I have to do is win there. And more than anything…" Shirou's face took on a nascent grin. "What's the point of paying my technical trainer if I am not going to take what appears to be some really good advice? We aren't going to fight Writer bare-knuckled, and that's…"

Shirou's admonishment was interrupted when Writer came back. As opposed to when she left, she didn't even bother pretending to move normally and ran back at a dead sprint.

"Good, you are still here," Writer's throaty voice was a bit breathless. That was unusual; a fighter of the King of Boxers tournament had no business becoming winded from a tiny little run. That reflected poorly on Shinji, as she needed to work on her conditioning.

"Here, this is yours." Writer said, forcing a sheet of paper she was holding into the hands of the manager of the _Wormen and Children_ gym.

"This…" Shinji's voice became breathy with strangled surprise and chagrin. Shirou and Saber, who had turned to leave, stopped despite themselves and faced the other pair again.

"This…is a notice of withdraw from the tournament!" Shinji choked out. "What have you done?!"

"Simple." In contrast to that of her manager, Writer's voice was calm, though it was tinged with malice. It appeared her manager was not exempted from Writer's desire to cause pain. "I utilized my right as a boxer to remove myself from the tournament. Oh, and by the way," Writer turned to face Saber and Shirou. "In case you were wondering, he," Writer inclined her head mockingly at the stricken Shinji, "has neither the connections nor the funds to arrange a free agent in time to replace me. Guess that means the win is yours, congratulations!"

Writer paused a moment to let that sink in.

"Then again…I think I remember hearing that your gym was in bad enough shape that you had to accept the free agent match last round because not doing so would doom you." Writer's voice was almost threatening. "Now I am guessing, if you have talked with Ayako, you were refusing to fight me, right? Well…"

Writer trailed off, looking almost exultant at the look of chagrin slowly spreading across the face of Emiya Shirou.

_"__How about now?"  
_  
Writer's blood lust washed over Shirou. He felt almost frozen, helpless. Yet beside him…he felt Saber tensing up. It was a good tenseness though, she was adapting to Writer's presence. Shirou wrenched his eyes away from that of Writer to glance at his boxer; she was smiling, of all things, looking enthused. She knew what Shirou's response had to be.

For a moment, Shirou felt his eyes drawn to Shinji, and Shinji, in kind, looked back at him. The other manager had not left a good impression on Shirou, but faced with a pair of unruly fighters eager to fight their hearts out with no regard for the wishes of their managers, he felt an odd moment of kinship with the other man.

"Well…"Shirou began, admitting to himself he was going to have to fight Writer on her own terms now.

"Crap." Shinji finished, acknowledging that while he had the fight he wanted, he had lost his chance to win the King of Boxers tournament.


End file.
